


Moonborn

by Nayna (orphan_account)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, May/December Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 91,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5774383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Nayna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragonborn. Dovahkiin. Dragonchild. Those words are meaningless to Nayna. She's not a hero. She doesn't want to be a hero. Caught in an Imperial ambush meant for Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion against the Empire, Nayna finds herself on the road to Sovngarde. In an ironic twist of fate, the World-Eater, Alduin himself inadvertently saves her from most certain death. All she wanted to find was her mother. Instead she finds her heart, her soul and the beast within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an aside, I don't own Skyrim, yadda yadda yadda. No intent to make money off of it, etc.  
> This is the first big writing project I've ever done. Please, stick with the story because the writing does get better, and I'm always looking to get better. Eventually I will revise and fix the older chapters, but for now I want to bang out some story. Also, I go back and forth with canon. Some of it I throw to the wind and some I try to stick rigidly to, whichever makes for the best story! Hope you guys enjoy reading Moonborn just as much as I enjoy writing it.

Several pairs of strong hands pulled her up, on to her feet. Blood dripped from the right side of her face, the side she had lain on the block only moments before. She staggered over the body of the dead Stormcloak, but they held her steadily as they dragged her to the opposite tower amidst the fire and dust. The usual chilly air now had a heat, a burning sensation, making the hairs on her arm stand up on prickled skin.

Hot,flaming rocks fell from the sky, missing them by mere inches.

Inside the tower was chaotic, but outside....outside was mayhem.

One pair of hands shouted, "Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

The pair holding her from behind answered, "Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move. Now!"

Jarl Ulfric....Ulfric Stormcloak. The same man she had been sitting next to in the cart on the way to Helgen. The name nearly brought her back to her senses, just as the Jarl himself pushed her towards the stairs yelling, "Move! Move her!"

She stumbled forward and the man-Ralof-pulled her to the tower stairs. Boom! A thundering crash sent tower rocks flying every where and nearly made her topple backwards into the Jarl himself, but he rightened her and shoved her up the stairs again. A large hole had appeared in the tower---the dragon? They cowered as flames burst through the opening in the tower. Just as soon as it had started, it was finished, and she was left panting with her hair plastered to her face and in her mouth.

"Seethe inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go!We'll follow when we can!" Ralof shouted from behind.

She didn't even glance around, only did as she was told, on autopilot,just as she had been ever since the Imperials grabbed her. She landed hard on the wooden floor of the inn and dropped to her knees. There was fire everywhere, licking up the sides of the walls, the thatched roof, the stairs. No escape....She looked around frantically before finding the hole in the floorboards. Relief flooded her and she jumped down to the main floor of the inn. No one followed her...yet...

Out the inn she went, tripping again over her own two feet. She tried to catch herself, but her hands were still bound. She went face first into the dirt and came up coughing and spluttering. She looked around for Ralof, finding only the Nord-Hadvar?--in front of her. He was yelling at a little boy, but his words were lost in the confusion and noise.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Still alive prisoner? Keep close if you want to stay that way."

No one had made it through the inn and she didn't see any other choice, so follow him she did.

"Stay close to the wall," he shouted, just as two...wings? Came piercing into the ground beside them. She covered her head, cowering against the wall. Everything was happening so fast....

She followed him through the roads of Helgen. By the divines, she wished he would cut her binds. Did he really think she would attack him in the midst of the chaos?

"Ralof,you damned traitor! Out of my way!"

The blond man laughed. "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

Hadvar roared. "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

Both men shouted at her. "Follow me!"

Her eyes flicked between the two, but there was no choice for her. An Imperial army that wished to cut off her head simply for crossing into Skyrim or a Nord Stormcloak fighting to defend his king? Both men had been kind to her it was true, but there was no joining the Legion. She followed Ralof into the tower, never looking back at Hadvar.

Inside the keep one of Ralof's dead comrades lay against the wall. He knelt and touched the body. "We'll meet in Sovngarde my brother....."

He stood up and looked at her. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it....That thing was a dragon, no doubt. Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the end times.We better get moving."

She cleared her throat and held up her bound hands.

He smiled. "Come here, let me see if I can cut off those bindings....There you go. You may as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it anymore."

She nodded and quickly changed out of her plain green dress, into the Stormcloak Curiass and boots, taking the hand axe and securing it to her hip. Ralof stood guard by the gate.

"Shhh,"he said, putting his finger on his lips. She was slightly bemused---she hadn't said a word since being captured and the talkative man wastelling her to hush? Behind the gate the voice of the overly zealous murder happy Captain sounded.

Ralof pulled his axe and a sword from his belt and nodded at the axe at her side. It wasn't the first time she had wielded a weapon, but it would be the first time she would have to kill. And in her dreams she always imagined her soft sensitive soul would crumble in this kind of situation.....Her dreams and girlish fantasies were wrong. There was a rage, a fire in her heart and she desired nothing more than to bury that axe in the Captain's face. She smiled for the first time in months and twirled the axe in anxious anticipation.

She crouched on one side and Ralof crouched on the other. The gate lowered and then the Captain and her Imperial lackey stepped through.

She ran forward, yelling a fierce battle cry. The Captain stepped back stunned as she sliced through the muscle on the Captain's arm.Laughter, hideous laughter, bubbled in her throat, gurgling and overflowing as she danced away from the Captain, who had thusly drawn her own sword. Once again she rushed at the Captain, giving the woman no time to react, except with a soldiers instinct. But her own instincts were well honed too. The sword met her axe with a clang,but her own swing had more power, more force to it and the woman's arm was overpowered. She kicked the woman in the shin, drew up her axe and hit the Captain as she went to one knee. The blade bit into the joint of the shoulder, where the armor gave space to bend. She jerked the axe free again and brought it down, only this time straight into the vulnerable flesh of the neck. She yanked the axe away, and pushed the dead Captain's body away with her foot. The sound of the body hitting the stone floor of the keep would stay with her forever though....Perhaps her dreams had been right after all....

"Hey...hey...You ok there? First kill is always the toughest one." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. Perhaps she'd been staring at the body a little too long.

"Check to see if she has a key for the other gate, or septims or anything useful."

She obliged pocketing the key and two iron daggers. She smiled down at the daggers. More her style. The axe wasn't bad, but she had more prowess with the daggers.

"Did you find--?"

She held up the key for him and he took it and unlocked the gate. Down they went, past more imperial scum, deeper into the tower until they were trapped underground. The deeper they went, the more they had to fight their way through, sometimes meeting up with shield brothers o rsisters of Ralof's. Each time he asked the same question.

"Did Jarl Ulfric make it? I'm sure he made it."

She wasn't so sure, but she said nothing. On the way through the tunnels she picked up a bow and some iron arrows from a dead Nord---she shook her head. A Nord fighting for the Empire? She turned her attention back to the bow. It was a simply longbow. A little big for a small girl like her, but nothing she couldn't handle, even if the draw was rather heavy for her arm. It felt good to have a bow again and she rubbed her thumb over the smooth wood. They had taken her traveling gear when she had been captured. Her jeweled daggers, her boots, her travel clothes....they left her with a simple green dress and boots.

"Hey Breton-this way." Ralof signaled her. She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. She was a Breton, this was true, and as Hadvar had accused her, she was of Daggerfall. But she was a Nord too. Her mother had hailed from Solitude, leaving only due to the Great War.Like the thief, she too was of Rorikstead, only she hadn't seen or set foot in Skyrim for nearly twenty years. When she thought of her mother, her heart constricted. Part of the gear she lost was the bow that had been handed down from her grandfather to her mother to her.It was more than just a family heirloom...It had saved each of their lives in one way or another.

She said none of this to Ralof, preferring to keep her secrets deep in her heart. She set her jaw, gave him a curt nod and walked ahead through the cave. They walked in surprising silence, before Ralof grabbed her arm, he pointed upwards---several giant frostbite spiders dangled from the ceiling. Between the two of them they made quick work of the spiders, and then of the bear that lay sleeping shortly down the path.

Ralof had wanted to sneak past the bear. But she was itching to practice with the bow-every bow was different after all, so she got off a few shots before Ralof finished it off with his axe.

"Sneaking's overrated, eh?" He chuckled. She curled one side of her mouth at him.

"Don't talk much do you? Don't think I've heard you say more than two words since they grabbed us. What's your name again, Breton?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Discretion is the better part of valor."

He laughed heartily. "Aye---aye! Look there's the way out!"


	2. The Road to Riverwood

She stepped into the brisk afternoon air, inhaling deeply. She was glad to be out of that cave, so glad she could have kissed the ground. She inhaled sharply again and again, until she was nearly light-headed.

"Wait!" Ralof cried as he ducked down behind a rock. He tugged on her arm and she dizzily went down beside him.

Above them there was a distant roar and the sight of a dragon floating away, getting smaller and smaller on the horizon.

"There he goes," Ralof said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Looks like he's gone for good this time."

He stood up and began walking down the snowy path. "No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. This place will be swarming with Imperials soon, we better clear out of here."

She jogged to catch up to him, all the while taking in the landscape of Skyrim. Twenty years had passed and she hadn't forgotten it. She was finally coming home.

"My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'll help you out."

She stopped. "You're not coming with me?"

"It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. I couldn't have made it without your help."

She stopped and stared at his back, completely dumbfounded. Split up? She barely remembered her way from Rorikstead to Whiterun. She had never even heard of Helgen or Riverwood until today. She had no idea whereshe was going. She simply followed him. He glanced sideways at her and merely chuckled. He was stuck with her and he knew it.

"You know, you should go to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire today, friend."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'll think about it."

"Well, if anyone will know what the coming of the Dragon means, it's Ulfric."

She wasn't so sure about that. The Jarl had seemed just as scared and worried as the rest of them. She stayed close to him as he pointed out several landmarks, such as the guardian stones and bleak falls barrow. He shuddered at the thought of it.

It was late afternoon as they came close to Riverwood. He grabbed her elbow, stopping her. "Remember this isn't Stormcloak territory. If we're ahead of the news from Helgen we should be fine as long as we don't do anything stupid. Better let me do the talking....not thatyou talk much anyways."

She gave him her best fake courtier smile, one that had been practiced into coy perfection. "Mystery is a girls best friend."

He laughed. Part of her couldn't fathom being able to laugh after that ordeal, but a greater part of her was scared if she didn't laugh, she would never be able to laugh again. It came dryly and left just assuddenly, but she managed a small snort. It was a start.

"I'm glad you decided to come with me. We're almost to Riverwood,"he said as he motioned towards the small settlement ahead. "Gerdur should be working at the mill."

Gerdur was just as tall and blonde as Ralof. She gasped when she saw them approaching. "Mara's mercy! Ralof!"

"Gerdur....Gerdur....I'm fine..."

She looked with sharp eyes between the two of them. "Who is this? One of your comrades?"

Ralof shook his head. "Not a comrade yet, but a friend. I owe her my life, in fact."

She opened her mouth in protest, but Ralof just shook his head at her.

Gerdur turned to her smiling. "What's your name friend?"

She sighed. "Just call me Nayna."

"Ah!That's right, Nayna. Now I remember!" Ralof grinned and slapped her on the back again. He turned back to Gerdur. "Is there somewhere we can talk? There is no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials."

Gerdur nodded and then called out. "Hod! Come here a minute. I need your help with something."

Hod called back. "What is it woman?"

Gerdur's voice grated sharply. "Just come here."

She led them over to a secluded area and Ralof plopped down on the tree stump. Nayna stood in the background as Gerdur spoke with Ralof and her husband, Hod.

"I can't remember when I last slept...Where do I start? Well,the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be.That was... two days ago, now. We stopped in Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up to the headsman's block and ready to start chopping."

Nayna rubbed the right side of her face, feeling mildly embarrassed, hoping the blood had crusted off already.

Gerdur gasped. "The cowards!"

"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then. But then... out of nowhere... a dragon attacked..."

"Wait, you don't mean a real live...."

"I can hardly believe it myself and I was there. As strange as it soundswe'd be dead now if not for that dragon. Inthe confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?"

"Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know."

"Good.Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but..."

"Nonsense.You and Nayna are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let meworry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine."

"Thanks Gerdur. I knew we could count on you...."

"I ought to get back to work before I'm missed, but... did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric..."

"Don't worry. I'm sure he made it out. It'll take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak."

Nayna wasn't so sure, but she said nothing.

"Nayna,"Gerdur said and stepped forward. "Here is a key to the house. Stay as long as you need. Let me know if you need anything else, ok?"

"I couldn't...."Nayna started, but Gerdur waved her protests away.

"Nonsense child.Here,"she curled Nayna's fingers around the key.

"Thank you."

Gerdur patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Best get back to work."

For the first time in weeks, Nayna had a warm hearth and a warm bed to sleep in. She slept like the dead. It wasn't until midmorning the next day Ralof shook her awake, shoving bread into her hands.

"Eat, eat." Heinsisted. "And when you're done, go see Gerdur. She's at the mill.She needs a favor."

She stuffed the bread into her mouth, and crammed her feet into the fur boots. Shehad to get some better fitting gear, these boots were far too hugeand her feet slipped and slid in them.

Gerdur was working at the same spot they found her the previous day. She glanced up whenNayna approached. "Heil, friend."

"Heil," the word felt awkward, but good on her tongue. "Ralof said you needed afavor."

"Aye, I would have sent you last night, but you looked done in."

"What can I do?"

"Someone needs to tell the Jarl of Whiterun about the dragon. Riverwood is defenseless. We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be forever in your debt."

Nayna smiled. "It'sthe least I can do after your kindness and generosity....Where can I go to get supplies?"

"And by supplies you mean weapons and armor?"

Nayna lifted one shoulder. "Potions....among other things too."

"See Alvor. He'sour blacksmith. I would avoid going to Whiterun in that getup."

"Is the Jarl part of the Legion?"

"Hmm no. But neither is he part of the Stormcloaks. He's ruled Whiterunhold well for years, but now..."she shrugged and continued tohammer away. "He seems like he's in over his head. He'sbeen trying to stay out of the war, but it can't last. He's going tohave to pick a side. I'm afraid he's going to make the wrong choice."

Nayna picked at her thumbnail. "Did Ulfric really murder the High King?"

Gerdur frowned, but kept pounding away. "Some say murdered, but it was alawful challenge in the old way. Ulfric called him out as a traitorto Skyrim, and killed him in single combat. If Torygg couldn't defend his throne, he had no business being High King."

Fair point. Nayna merely nodded, even though the woman couldn't see her.

After a lengthy silence, where only the pounding of the hammer and the grinding of the mill saw could be heard Nayna finally said, "Thank you again Gerdur. I'll deliver your message to the Jarl right away."

"It is no trouble at all. Any friend of Ralofs is a friend of mine. And thank you, you're doing Riverwood a great service."


	3. Onwards

Why, oh why did she always get roped into helping people? It was one thing to do a favor for Gerdur who had helped her, but why did she agree to go to Bleak Falls Barrow to retrieve this stupid golden claw? It was the soft spot in her heart. The one that would probably get her killed one day.

After leaving Gerdur, she sought out Alvor for new gear. There wasn't much gold in her pocket, only what Gerdur had so generously given her and what she'd scrounged from the dungeons and depths of Helgen. She admitted as much to Alvor and he said in exchange for some new armor,he'd take her help around the forge and whatever gold she could scrape together.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything quite small enough to fit you, you'll have to get that armor tempered in Whiterun, but it should see you well for now."

She nodded and pulled at one of the straps. It was better than the Stormcloak tunic, and she felt less conspicuous in it. "Thank you.I have a few things I could sell...."

"You'll want Riverwood trader. Right over there," he said pointing. "Be careful, something was stolen from the shop a few nights past and Lucan is in an uproar."

So she had gone to the trader and listened to his sad story about the claw being stolen. She listened to the trader and his sister,Camilla, argue about who should go retrieve it. And of course she volunteered. Lucan promised her a bag full of gold, so there was that. Camilla walked her to the edge of town, and no further,pointing out the path.

Nayna was about to leave when a sad voice called behind her. "Was that Camilla you were just talking to?"

And so there she was caught up in the love feud between Faendal and Sven.The latter wanted her to deliver a letter from the former to Camilla in order to humiliate and chase him off. She snatched the letter from Sven's hand and stomped back to Camilla and handed her the letter.

"Only,it's from Sven, not Faendal. I'm supposed to be discreet and um, not tell you about it." She shrugged at Camillia.

"Oh...."Camilla said, still studying the letter. "Thank you for telling me. You should let Faendal know about this."

Nayna blinked at her and sighed. She didn't think she'd ever get to Bleak Falls Barrow. Luckily, Faendal paid her a few septims for her troubles and gave her a nice hunting bow. Much better than the longbow. After another trip to the trader, where she hocked the longbow and the Stormcloak armor, she jingled her way out of town before someone else found her.

It was the first time in 3 days she was utterly alone. She didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified. Everything from the past 3 days was such a blur. She couldn't even remember crossing into Skyrim, only that one day she was in Cyrodill and then she was waking up in a cart with a horse thief, Ralof and Ulfric Stormcloak.

She'd grown up hearing stories about Ulfric and his legendary Thu'um from her mother's man. How he'd retaken the city Markarth from the Forsworn using that same thu'um. In Daggerfall, she'd heard less about him until he had killed the High King. The court had been abuzz with gossip, wondering if it meant war for Skyrim and if so, who would aid them. She hadn't stuck around to find out, but she highly doubted aid would come from High Rock.

She didn't want to think about High Rock or Ulfric Stormcloak. She trulydidn't want to think at all. Experiences in Cyrodill and Hammerfell taught her that thinking only led down a dark road of self-pity and self-loathing.

She was too busy focusing on not thinking to notice the three wolves approaching her until they were almost atop her. She squeaked just asthe first one lunged for her throat. Instinct kicked in and she punched the wolf with her bow, stunning it, giving her just enough time to jump out of the path of the next wolf. She snagged an arrow from her hip and strung her bow in one fluid motion. Thwap! The arrowhit the third wolf straight in the heart. She leaped on to thenearest rock and kicked the second wolf in the snout. Her secondarrow hit the wolf straight in the eye. The last wolf circled herrock, snarling and foaming at the mouth. She narrowed her eyes andstrung a third arrow, waiting for the wolf to double back. As soon as he was in her line of vision she released the arrow right into his flank, sending him off whimpering up the mountain.

"Damnit,"she said, realizing he took one of her valuable arrows with him.

After retrieving the arrows from the dead wolves and tucking them back into her belt, she started back up the path to Whiterun. She probablyshould have skinned them, but her knives weren't sharp enough and theday was wasting. She looked up at the sun. It was quite past midday,on to midafternoon at least. She spent another lonely hour on the path before she spotted the infamous Dragonsreach on the horizon. It was just as she remembered it. Again she felt like she was cominghome after a long and weary trip. A peace that she never felt in Daggerfall.

She abandoned the road to cut across the farms. Before her, three humans were fighting a very tall giant. Part of her wanted to walk on past,let them deal with the giant. She'd had enough fighting the past few days. But there it was. That feeling. That urge to help. The one that would get her killed eventually....She crouched, pulling an arrow taunt as she swiftly moved forward. Nayna took cover behind a tree and peered around. She lined her shot and let go. The arrow spiraled forward and stuck right in the giants ribcage. Again she shot the giant, this time catching him in the thigh. She didn't get a third shot, though. The others had taken him down shortly after the second.

One of them sauntered towards her—a woman with red hair and striped warpaint.

"You handle yourself well. You could make for a decent shield sister."

Nayna bowed her head in acknowledgment, but said nothing.

"New to Skyrim?" The woman laughed. "Never heard of the Companions? An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough."

Of course Nayna had heard of the Companions. It was something her mothers man used to talk about with such reverence in his voice. She,along with some of the other village children used to pretend to be Companions, fighting off wolves, fighting bears, fighting giants.

Nayna nodded. "How would I go about joining?"

"You'll have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane up in Jorrvaskr. The old man's got a good sense for people. He can look in your eyes and tell your worth.If you go to him, good luck."

"I might just take you up on that," Nayna replied.

"You should." The woman nodded curtly and beckoned the other two with a flick of her head.

The man grinned so wide and genuinely Nayna couldn't help but smile back."Name's Farkas. That,"he pointed at the redhaired woman, "is Aela. And this is Ria." He motioned to the other girl who wa schecking the body of the giant.

"I'm Nayna."

"Nice to meet you. You seem strong. You should come and be a Companion!"

Nayna appreciated the smooth roll of his voice and his enthusiasm. She just stood there stupidly smiling at him, not being able to think of anything to say. The girl Ria approached with an arrow.

"Here you go! The other one broke, but at least you can have this one back."

Nayna stuffed the arrow into her belt. "Thanks..."

"Come on Ria, we'd better get back. Wouldn't want Aela telling the story without us," Farkas said, nudging Ria.

Nayna watched them go listening to Farkas teasing Ria in his good natured manner, calling her girl and whelp. Occasionally Aela would throw a half smile at them over her shoulder. A pang of...pain...jealousy...rose in her heart. Shaking herself off she followed them up the path and to the gate of the town.

"Halt.Town's closed." One of the guards said.

Nayna watched as Farkas, Aela and Ria disappeared through the gate. She raised her eyebrow at him. "Oh really?"

"Yes,"the guard said tersely. "Officially business only."

"Well,I guess it's lucky for me that I'm here on behalf of Riverwood then."

"Riverwood?"

"Aye,"Nayna sighed. "Regarding the dragon attacks. I'm here to request aid for Riverwood."

The guard exchanged a glance with the other man on duty. "Better let her in. You should see the Jarl."

"Aye,I will at once."


	4. Bleak Falls Barrow

When she was little she used to tell her mother that one day she was going to live in Whiterun. When her father had come to take her away, those dreams had dissipated. Stepping into the city made her realize she could indeed live in Whiterun if she wanted to. She could be a Companion...have a home, find a man she actually loved and who wanted her in return....a family...

Farkas, Aela and Ria were still ahead of her. She unconsciously followed them through the market and to the circle. She stopped when she realized she was standing on the steps outside of Jorrvaskr, the legendary home to Ysgramor himself.

"You gonna stand there all night?"

Nayna was startled out of her revere. In the time she had spent staring at the mead hall the sun had sank low beyond the horizon and the air had a biting chill to it. She took a step back and right into the man who had spoken but a moment earlier.

She turned and stammered. "I'm sorry, I...I'm...lost. I was, ah,looking for Dragonsreach...."

The man raised an eyebrow and pointed up to the very obvious keep. "It would be that way."

She cursed herself inwardly. Outwardly she smiled and said, "Of course. Thank you."

"And here I thought we were getting a new warrior," he joked, tugging at her bow.

She glanced back at her bow, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Oh...I.."

"A word of advice, whelp," he said, stepping closer and gripping her chin in his hand. He turned her face to look into his. One of his eyes was milky while the other was a sharp blue. His one good eye was studying her face. "Fortune favors the bold and if you aren't bold you aren't meant to be a Companion. And I don't think that statement is true, is it....whelp?"

Nayna was rather alarmed at the strange man's hand on her face. She pulled back, nearly losing her footing. He grabbed her elbow and righted her. "Easy there. I'll be honest, you look like a scared horse."

"Well fuck you too," she exclaimed. And then realized she said it aloud. She turned beet red and looked at the man's boots.

He burst out laughing. "There it is." He slapped her rather hard on the back and climbed the stairs. She rubbed her shoulder as she watched him disappear after Aela and Farkas into Jorrvaskr. He was right. She wouldn't make it in the Companions. She toyed with the edge of her thumb and then headed up to Dragonsreach.

 

Nayna wasn't sure what to make of the Jarl. He was clearly a good ruler, he cared more about his people than he did the war, but there was something off about him. Perhaps it was the way he dismissed her as a criminal instantly, or the haughty look on his face. Either way he seemed to like her and her initiative, whatever that meant. Of course all it meant was that he could use her for his next task. Luckily that involved going to Bleak Falls Barrow, where she was already headed. At least it was convenient.

It was dusk by the time she headed back to Riverwood. She should have stopped, eaten and slept, but she just wanted it over and done with.In and out, she told herself. Grab the claw and the dragonstone and get the hell out of there as fast as possible.

Nayna gasped as she felt an arrow whiz past her ear. Whirling about, she grabbed the bow and strung an arrow. There was no one in her immediate sight, but that didn't mean they weren't there. She hunched down and crept to the nearest tree for cover. That's when she saw the orc a few yards in front of her. She let her arrow fly. It hit him in the shoulder, but he was unphased. A great war cry erupted from his throat and he lunged at her.

For a split second she stood frozen to the ground. He was so much bigger than she was---everyone was so much bigger than she was. She threw herself to the side at the last minute. Into the bushes she went, but she scrambled up as fast as she could, narrowly missing another attack from the orc. Screwed....she was so screwed it wasn't even funny. She dropped her bow and drew out the knives. All her training in the arena hadn't prepared her for this. Hell even fighting the Imperials at Helgen hadn't prepped her. She swallowed as he came at her again, she couldn't run forever so this time she stood her ground. She reminded herself of her training.....it takes more energy to swing and miss than to swing and hit. She knew what to do.

He whirled his maul at her, but this time she was ready. She ducked and waited for him to move off balance and when he did she shoved one of the daggers straight into his armpit. He roared and stumbled. She put her boot to his side and pushed him away with her foot. The dagger dripped with his blood. Nayna drove down on his chest, pinning him with her knees as she shoved the dagger in his throat and in his eye.

She panted and pushed the hair from her sweaty face. There was still the asshole with the bow out there somewhere. She wondered why he didn't take an attack of opportunity. Hopefully the dick ran out of arrows.

After she sheathed her knives Nayna pushed off the Orc and searched through his pockets. She wasn't much of a thief but she was pragmatic. Every little bit of gold helped. She picked up her bow and continued up the trail ever more cautiously.

Thwap!Another arrow flew past her and stuck to a tree to her right. This time she knew where it came from and she was ready, another arrow strung and aimed. "Why don't you just throw the arrows?"

The woman stepped from the brush, the better to see Nayna. But that washer mistake. Nayna let the arrow fly and it arced right into the woman's throat. Excellent, Nayna thought, maybe she has a full quiver. And she was right. Nayna pocket more gold from the woman's body and the remaining arrows.

Bleak Falls Barrow was at the peak of the small mountain, snowy and rather cold. If only she had bought a cloak. But it was too late to lament now. She pushed on, sneaking up behind two more bandits and taking them out quickly with 4 quick shots. Finally, inside the cavern, she spotted even more bandits. None of them had the claw she was looking for, or the dragonstone. She should've known better. It wouldn't be easy. Nothing ever was.

It got even better though. Now even a quarter of the way through the dead began to walk. Nayna nearly cried and ran out, but the Dragur was blocking her path. She whirled to the side as it lunged at her and instinctively kicked it in the knee making it tumble to the ground. Gripping her bow in both hands she jammed the edge into it's head and it moved no more.

The deeper she went, the more Dragur there were to be found. She whimpered. She hadn't signed up for any of this. Fucking Ulfric Stormcloak. If he hadn't been at Darkwater Crossing, she wouldn't have gotten caught in that stupid ambush, wouldn't have had her head on the chopping block, wouldn't have had to escape a dragon and wouldn't have had his hands on her ass and she wouldn't be here now.Her anger gave her something else besides fear to focus on, a good thing too because there were even more Dragur. And then there were spiders. Fucking spiders. Fucking hell. But they were easy enough.

"A little help here!"A voice shouted from the webs across the room.

Nayna was startled and she pointed an arrow at the voice. "Who---who's there?"

"Will you stop asking pointless questions and just fucking cut me down already?"

She lowered the bow. "Alright, no need for hostility."

"You're the one about to shoot me, but I'm hostile?"

"Sorry,"she muttered and worked on the webs with her dagger. "There....are you good now?"

He dropped down and giggled maniacally. "You fool! I'm not going to share the claw treasure with you!"

She watched him run off into the distance. "Well fuck."

Nayna chased after him, stopping short when she saw he was engaged with two Dragur. She strung an arrow into her bow, the better to shoot the victor. There was no way she was getting involved in that flurry of fuckery.

The Dragur made quick work of the thief before turning to her, but she loosened two arrows into their skulls before they even got close. She shuddered at them, but reminded herself she had a job to do. In and out. Yeah, right.

After searching the thief's body, she found the golden claw. There were intricate designs on the front. Interesting. She dropped it into her bag and kept going, eventually coming to a door with no obvious keyhole only three prong holes and only odd symbols in rings....The same symbols as the claw. The claw was the key.

The main chamber was large and rather open for a nefarious looking cave.On the raised stone dais there was a table and a crypt. Across the room was a stone wall with blue lit letters in a strange language she had never seen before. It called to her, beating in time with her heart, breathing in time with her chest, moving in time with her footsteps. It called her very soul and she couldn't resist the urge to answer. She walked through the chamber, in a dragur-like state,bumping into the embalming table next to the tomb. Her fingers brushed the wall and her lips moved in that strange language she never knew of until that very moment.

The blue light filled her head, her heart, her soul, her very being. It was fullness and emptiness at the same time. It was everything and nothing. It was power, unrelenting power and it was hers.

The sound of stone on stone broke her trance, and she turned to find the biggest Dragur staring straight at her, a horrible grin on it's face.He stopped, cocked his dead head to the side and yelled. "FUSRODAH"

She was knocked on her ass and slid into the wall behind her with the back of her head taking the brunt of the force. The world began to spin, and she groaned. The hammer of the Dragur came slowly down upon her. She didn't move in time and her foot felt like it was being shattered. She screamed in pain and kicked out with her other foot.The Dragur tumbled backwards and Nayna crawled to her bow, dragging her useless foot behind her. She shook so bad she could even string an arrow successfully, so she pulled out one of her daggers. She waited until the Dragur was nearly on top of her before she threw it at him. It landed in his chest, causing him to stumble a bit. She rolled on to her side and kicked it's feet from under it. He landed with a thump on the ground and Nayna rolled atop of him. She grabbed a nearby stone tablet and brought it smashing down on it's skull,over and over and over and over again, until she was sure it was extra dead.

Nayna rolled off of him, onto her back, panting. She still held the stone tablet. She wiped some of the sticky Dragur slime off....and started laughing. It was the dragonstone. Good. She was done here. Fuck this place. Fuck Lucan, fuck Farengar, fuck the Jarl and for good measure fuck Ulfric too. By the gods, her foot. She groaned and sat up.Gently she pulled off the boot and nearly threw up at the mangled bloody mess of her foot. Funnily enough any other blood she was fine with. Her own and vomit city. She pulled her healing spell from deep within and her hands and eyes glowed with bright white light until her magicka was gone for the day.

She wiggled her toes. Not bad, but still rather painful. She would at least be able to walk, albeit with a limp. She'd hobble her ass right over to the bannered mare and rent a room and sleep until she couldn't sleep no more. Because they could wait.


	5. Dragonborn

It was dawn before she hobbled back into Whiterun.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Nayna muttered as she limped past the guards. But as usual, they paid her no heed.

She sat down at the foot of the steps of the Drunken Huntsman, and rubbed her foot. Once she got up to Dragonsreach, Farengar would be able to heal her foot further....If she managed to get there at all.

"Well well, if it isn't the whelp," a familiar voice said from above.

She looked up and saw the one-eyed man from the last night. "Hi."

He was grinning at her. "Got a problem there, whelp?"

She shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."

He offered her his hand and she considered him carefully. There was blood under his fingernails. Finally she allowed him to pull her up.

"Lean on me," he said.

"Um,well, I like to know a man's name before he puts his hands on my ass," Nayna joked.

He laughed. "Skjor. And my hands aren't getting anywhere near your ass. My woman wouldn't like it. What about you?"

She grunted as they took a step forward. "I don't think my woman would mind. If I had one."

A chuckle escaped his lips. "You enjoy your sarcasm, don't you....?"

"It's Nayna and..."she winced. "I'd enjoy it so much more if my foot hadn't been crushed by a Dragur hammer."

Skjor raised his eyebrows. "Dragur? Been sniffing around old tombs or something, whelp?"

She glared at him. "It's Nayna and I was doing a favo---ouch, fuck me."She stopped leaning her weight on the good foot.

"Heh, well if my woman won't let me touch your ass, whelp, I certainly--"

"--I get it,"Nayna snapped. "Anyway, I was running an errand for the Jarl."

"Hmm,"Skjor said as he waited for her to continue on.

"That and I agreed to retrieve a stolen item for this man in Riverwoooo-aaahhh---ddd. Gods damn."

"Do you always complain this much?"

"Yes."

"Well,at least you own it." Skjor said.

She sighed. "Truthfully I was able to heal it a little but, I was hoping Farengar---can you help me sit on those steps?"

He obliged and she went on. "I was hoping Farengar would heal the rest. I forgot to bring potions and I didn't find any in Bleak Falls."

His eyebrows shot up again. "Bleak Falls? You must have stones on you,whelp. Maybe I was right about you after all."

She shrugged but he went on. "Look, whelp, I meant what I said about the Companions. We need strong, bold warriors. We're a dying breed unfortunately. We've not nearly the numbers we used to. I think you'd find a place with us. Looks like you can handle yourself in a fight and looks like you could've used a shield-sibling out there. We need you and you need us."

Nayn apicked at the ends of her hair and shrugged again.

"Well,I'm not gonna drag you up there, whelp. It's your decision. But something tells me you want to." Skjor said.

Nayna didn't meet his eyes. He was right. Somewhere inside her, her heart longed to belong. There was the longing, but there was the fear too.There was always the fear, the submissive side that her stepmother loved to stir. Ever since she went to live with her father she'd been a rabbit, too scared and shy to leave her hole, running back to the safety of her room as fast as she could whenever she was allowed. Over the course of 19 years she learned to suppress the wild side of herself until she she couldn't any longer. Now she was a walking contradiction between wanting to be wild, free and wanting to be safe and secure.

Finally she looked up at Skjor and nodded. "You're right. I do. But first,take me up to Dragonsreach, I have a stone to return and a foot to be mended."

 

"Ow ow ow ow!" Nayna said as Farengar slipped off her boot.

"Stop complaining, you'll not be in pain soon enough. But I'm not a healer,so don't make this a habit."

"Easy for you to say, I don't see you running off into evil caves and smashing YOUR feet," she muttered.

"No,no I'm too important to the Jarl," he said, poking her foot. If she wasn't in so much pain already she would have kicked his smug face in.

His hands glowed with the same white light and she felt the soothing coolness wash over her. She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome, but thank you for putting yourself in mortal danger to gain the stone for us. Seems like you're cut from a different cloth than the rest of the fools the Jarl throws my way."

It was only then Nayna noticed the woman on the other side of the table.Her face was in shadows, hidden by a cowl, but she was dressed in leather, as if ready for battle. She looked up and Nayna felt a chill through her spine so she busied herself stuffing her healed foot into her boot.

"Farengar,"A voice called from the archway. It was Irileth. "You better come quick. A dragon's been spotted near the Western Watchtower."

"A dragon?" Farengar breathed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Irileth pointedly ignored him and turned her gaze to Nayna. "You better come too."

"You're kidding right?" Nayna said, but she merely spoke to their backs.

A dragon? What the hell was she supposed to do about it? She looked over at the woman who merely shrugged and said, "Well you better get going then."

After testing her weight on her newly healed foot, Nayna jogged up the stairs to meet every one else. The Jarl nodded at her, but continued to listen to the wobbly voice of the guard in front of him. She stood off to the side, unsure as to why the Jarl wanted her there in the first place.

"What did it do? Is it attacking the watchtower?" the Jarl asked.

The guard shook his head. "No m'lord, it was just circling overhead when I left...I...I....never ran so fast in my life....thought it would come after me for sure...."

The Jarl clapped the man on the back. "That's good work son. We'll take it from here. Go down to the barracks and have some food and wine."He turned to Irileth. "Now, you better gather some guards---"

"---I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate. I've also sent word over to Jorrvaskr. I'm sure a few of the Companions can help."

"Good.Don't fail me. And remember, this isn't a death or glory mission. We need to know what we're dealing with,"the Jarl said.

"Don't worry, I'm the very soul of caution," she called back at him.

The Jarl turned to Nayna. "There is no time to stand on ceremony my friend. I need your help again. No, Whiterun needs your help. Go with Irileth and help her fight this Dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons then anyone else here. But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city.And please accept this gift from my personal armory."

He handed her a helmet which she took gingerly, staring at him in utter shock. Sure, she had experience with a dragon....Running away from a dragon to be more precise. She had no idea what the fuck she was doing. How the fuck did one fight a dragon anyway? Not to mention she was exhausted, the last time she had slept had been...two days past.

"Goon, you've not a moment to lose," Balgruuf said.

 

Standing at the gate were the guards ordered to muster, Irileth and three Companions: Skjor, Aela and Farkas. Irileth was busy going over the watchtower plans with the guards.

Farkas spotted her first. "Hey! Nayna right?"

Nayna rubbed an awkward hand over her face. "Yeah, that's me. You're Farkas, right?"

He grinned. "You bet I am. You remember Aela? And that's---"

"--whelp!"Skjor called out. "How's the foot?"

Nayna felt her face turning beet red. "All fixed."

Aela looked between the two of them. "You know each other?"

"Oh yeah,"Skjor said, sauntering over to give her a side hug. 

She smiled weakly up at him. "We're old friends."

"Old friends, eh?"Aela grinned. She opened her mouth to say something else but was cut off by Irileth.

"Let's move people. And remember, if this bastard gets to be too much, you run. Got it? Chances are at least one of us will come back alive. You,"she pointed at Nayna, who was only too glad to be out of Skjor's grip. "Take the lead. Describe to me everything you saw in Helgen."

"You were at Helgen?"Farkas asked from behind her.

"Aye,well. I saw a big dragon. He breathed fire. Then I saw a tower.That's about it. Too busy running from the dragon to really assess the---"

"--good enough for me," Irileth said walking ahead with her men.

Nayna threw her hands up in the air. "Why do I bother?" she muttered.

They met up with Irileth and her men at the rendezvous point. The watchtower was on fire, just as much as Helgen had been. The burning city flashed before her eyes and she took a step back, blinking hard,trying to convince herself it was only the sun burning her eyes, not the hell fires of the dragon. Skjor grabbed her arm and looked down at her, an understanding look in his eye. She pulled her arm away,rubbing it with her hand. She pretended to shiver from the cold, but she couldn't abide by his touch. It reminded her too much of Hadvar's hand on her arm. Panic bubbled just under the surface as she tried to steady her breathing.

"Are you ok?" Farkas asked. Aela was looking down at her with a frown, but it was Skjor who said "Knock it off. She's fine. Aren't you whelp?"

She looked at Skjor and nodded. Somehow him saying she was fine, it almost made it so. Not quite, but almost. She smiled weakly. "Sorry,just running on little rest. Um, Irileth? We should scout ahead, see if...." She licked her lips and breathed out heavily. "See if there are any survivors."

"You heard the girl. Let's move people. Stay close--"

"--no,"Nayna cut in. "If we stay in one tight group, easier to die that way. We should split apart, but not too far."

Irileth began to protest, but Aela stopped her. "She's right. If we stay together, one breath of the dragons fire and we're all roasted meat."

Nayna nodded in thanks. Aela bobbed her head and pulled her bow out. "Let's move. Skjor and Farkas, take the left side of the tower. Nayna and I will scout the front while the guards fan out through the fields."

Nayna pulled her own bow out, sliding an arrow in, but not pulling it taunt. She and Aela swiftly moved to the front of the tower. Part of the tower had broken off and landed in front of the entrance. Just above the rock, she saw the bob of a dark head. She nudged Aela and pointed.

"Solider!"Aela hissed. The man's head shot up. His eyes were wild, crazy,darting back and forth.

He lifted a trembling finger to the sky. "Go back." He whispered."It's still here. Dragon!"

And Nayna felt it. Not the fiery breath, not the dark shadow overhead. It was the same pulling that had drawn her to the strange words in Bleak Falls Barrow. All around her the voices began to blur together into one single monotone. Colors began to blend, the world faded out and all that was left was her and the dragon. She turned just as it landed in front of her and it laughed. It laughed. And she laughed because he was laughing. She was probably as crazy as she looked, but it was laughing at her.

Then it roared. "DOVAHKIIN."

The force pushed her back and she landed flat on her rear. The shock that jolted up her body must have zapped her brain because she was brought back to herself. In an instant she had readied her arrow and let it fly, right into the snout of the dragon before her. He screamed,letting out a rope of flames. She rolled out of the way, only mildly singed. Nayna pushed herself up with her hands, though her feet slid on the rocky rubble a she struggled to regain her footing. Behind her, the dragon roared and screamed again. She heard steel meet dragonflesh, over and over.

She turned, just as he shot up in the sky. He was peppered by arrows, but seemed largely unaffected by them as his attention turned to her."DOVAHKIIN."

She shuddered and ran into the tower. Up the stairs. Up, up, up and up some more, until she reached the top of the tower, the better to shoot from. Aela emerged from the tower and took her place beside her and together they worked on getting the dragon down. Arrow after arrow flew into the sky, more missing their target than not.

"Wing,"Aela shouted. Nayna nodded and they both aimed for his wings as he circled overhead, an ugly bird of prey.

Aela's next arrow caught him and he screeched as he crashed in the ground.

"I'm out of arrows," Nayna panted. Aela nodded and pulled a dagger from her side. Nayna followed suit and together they descended the stairs,two or three at a time, and hauled ass for the dragon. Nayna stopped as it lunged for a guard. It grabbed him and shook him around, like a dog with a bunny and then tossed him in the air, blood and guts flying everywhere. Nayna felt sick. Not now, she commanded herself and darted ahead to meet up with Aela and the others.

They tore into it, but it seemed like he would never be weakened. Her arms burned from slashing and hacking, her thighs screamed in protest. She wanted to cry from sheer exhaustion, but she forced herself to go on. Beside her Farkas was yelling "Oh yeah? Is that all you've got?"

His head.....she'd have to stab him in the head. Nayna had no idea where this thought came from, but she ran with it. Literally. The dragon was careful to keep his head from getting too low to the ground, but he gave no such caution to his tail. Nayna pushed away from Aela, who turned to watch her. "Nayna!"

But she kept going and jumped on the tail. Her footing was unsure and she slipped, but righted herself on the scaly back. She climbed its back and when she got to the head, pulled out her knife and plunged it into the dragons head....Only...it wasn't long enough. All she had managed to do was piss him off further. He bobbed and weaved his head, side to side, causing Nayna to slide down. She managed to catch herself on one of the spikes on its head. Below her everyone was shouting instructions. But it was all garbled nonsense to her. She held on with a death grip as the dragon gave her the ride of her life.

Something tapped her heel and when she looked down she saw Skjor stretched to his full extent, slapping her ankle with the hilt of his sword. She let go with one hand and he tossed it. She nearly missed catching it,but managed to trap it between herself and the dragon. Skjor's sword gave her a second wind and she was able to climb back up and stab him in earnest.

"DOVAHKIIN"the dragon screamed as he died. He took his final steps and flopped down on his side, sending Nayna flying. She landed hard on her back,sending shock waves of pain through her spine and knocking the wind out of her.

She was gasping for breath, scrambling as hands pull her up. It was Farkas.

"It's ok. You're ok. Just breathe," Farkas said in a soothing voice as he rubbed her back.

She wanted to slap him. If she could breathe she---ahhh!!! Her lungs filled with fiery air and she coughed and spluttered.

"There you go. She's okay!" He called over his shoulder. "Now that was a battle!"

"Now we know we can kill the damn things," Irileth said, hands on hips as she surveyed the body. "Whoa, what in the name---get back!"

The corpse was suddenly ablaze. Everyone stepped back, except Nayna who was dragged by Farkas. She stumbled, but he righted her again and patted her back uncomfortably.

There it was again. She pushed off Farkas. The wanting, the pulling, the needing. She was trembling with the urge to touch it, to let the pyre consume her. She reached her hand out to the scaly body and her heart started to beat with the flames, her blood dancing and rising to meet the need. Her lips parted as she breathed in the fire. To her, there was no shock when her hand began to glow. There was no shock when that same light traveled up her arm, across her breasts, over her heart, over her entire molten body. Power,something deep in her mind whispered. This is what power feels like.

And just as soon as it started, it was over and Nayna was left in the cold morning sun, blinking back the darkness.

"By the gods," one of the guards whispered. Nayna didn't understand.She looked around in confusion, every face looking at her with the same expression of awe.

"What?"

"You....you're,"the guard stammered.

"I'm what?" She demanded. She wanted to know what, she wanted her light back.

It was Aela who answered, newly found respect in her voice."Dragonborn."


	6. The Companions

She was about to jump up the steps to Dragonsreach when Aela called out to her. Nayna turned, finding Aela, Skjor and Farkas staring at her. She was slowly turning red.

"Where are you going?" Farkas asked.

She pointed up at the keep. Farkas looked disappointed while Skjor rolled his one good eye. Then she realized they wanted her to come with them. She looked between them and Dragonsreach, but it was no contest. She walked over to them and Farkas clapped her rather hard on the back, while Aela laid a hand on her lower back and guided her up the stairs.

"Come see Kodlak. But I'm sure he'll let you join,"Aela was saying.

"But don't think we'll treat you any different because you're the Dragonborn....whelp," Skjor called over his shoulder as he opened the door to Jorrvaskr. She could hear yelling and laughter coming from inside. A rush of warm air hit her; she could smell freshly baked bread and sweet rolls. Playful laughter and hooting echoed throughout the hall. He motioned in. "After you, whelp."

As she stepped inside, she was temporarily blinded from the lack of light inside. Behind her she heard Skjor chuckle and say, "Are those two at it again?"

After some intense blinking her eyes finally adjusted and she saw what everyone was laughing and cheering over: a fist fight between a Dunmer male and a human female. Skjor's hands came down on her shoulders and he pushed her forward towards the great table in the middle of the hall. She sat down obediently and Farkas plopped in the chair next to her.

"Njada's gonna win," he said.

"How do you know that?" Nayna asked as Farkas heaped food on his plate.

He shoved a bite in. "She always does."

Nayna shrugged and leaned forward to watch.

Farkas cleared his throat. "You gonna eat that?"

"Oh um," She shook her head and pushed the plate of potatoes his way.

Skjor and Aela had joined the hooting and hollering. The woman was indeed overpowering the elf with her fists flying left and right. He would only get a punch or two in before she would advance down on him with a fury of punches. Finally there was a loud sickening thud, a crunch and a spurt of blood. The elf hit the floor and the woman stood triumphantly over him.

"Told ya," Farkas grinned and shoved more potato in his mouth. Nayna smiled back in earnest. He was so goofy in an endearing way. She'd had a puppy like him once.

"You gonna go see Kodlak? He's probably down in his rooms. Doesn't get out much anymore,"Farkas said chewing thoughtfully. "Got the rot. Hard to get up and down the stairs."

"Oh, I guess," she glanced around, looking for Skjor, but Farkas shook his head.

"Better if you go by yourself. Skjor can't hold your hand for everything," he said and popped his fork in his mouth.

Nayna chewed the inside of her cheek anxiously. Farkas was right, but it didn't stop her heart from pounding, threatening to leap from her throat. She stood slowly and Farkas nodded in approval. She had to push herself to go before anyone else did. Her pride wouldn't let it happen again.

She hurriedly descended the steps before she met anyone's eyes. Damn, she hated attention and ever since she came to Skyrim, that's all she found. It was dumb dumb dumb of her, but there was always that lingering self-consciousness. That fear that people would make fun of her. It was childish, but something she'd never quite outgrown. As much as she wanted to blame it on her stepmother and sisters, she knew it was her own failings.

In the lower part of Jorrvaskr she nearly ran into a stumbling drunk man. "Do I know you?" he asked and squinted in her general direction---mostly looking off to her right.

"Um,no, but do you know Kodlak? The one in charge?" She asked softly.

"In charge?" he guffawed. "I'm in charge of me" he pointed at himself and then slid that arm around Nayna. She leaned back away from his putrid breath. "And you're in charge of you." He said and poked the top of her breast. He swung that same arm wide and pointed down the hall. "If you're looking for Kodlak he's down that way."

"Yeah, thanks." She said and ducked away from him.

"Might head down to the meadery later...." he called after her.

"Yeah, alone," she muttered under her breath. She wrapped her arms around herself, clasping her elbows as she walked down the hall. In the room at the very end she saw two shadowy figures.

She stopped in the doorway when she realized they were in the middle of a conversation. So of course she stood there awkwardly, unsure if she should come back or wait for them to finish.

"But I still hear the call of the blood."

"We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome."

The first man spoke again, with a heavy sigh. "You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

"Leave that to me," said the second man.

They were quiet for a moment, so Nayna took the time to step in. She nearly stepped back out in confusion. How did Farkas get down there so quick? And then it dawned on her, he must have been Farkas' twin. The man sitting next to him could only have been Kodlak Whitemane himself. He was an older, proud man. His eyes ran up and down her, not in an arduous way, but from one warrior appraising another.

He nodded approvingly. "A stranger comes to our hall."

Nayna cleared her throat. "I...I would like to join the Companions."

"Hmm, yes.....A certain strength of spirit."

Farkas's twin looked at Kodlak incredulously. ""Master,you're not truly considering accepting her?"

Nayna was taken aback. She knew she wasn't the atypical warrior being small of stature and overly delicate looking, but to judge her based on this alone? She supposed her timidity didn't help matters either.

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas." Kodlak snapped. "And last I checked,we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

Vilkas bowed his head. "Apologies. But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."

Nayna opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it and snapped it shut.

Kodlak nodded at her. "Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

"And their arm." Vilkas said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Nayna stepped back and squinted at him. He blatantly met her stare, tiling his head and cocking his eyebrow ever so slightly as if to challenge her. She stared boldly right back at him until Kodlak spoke again.

"How's your arm girl?" He asked.

Nayna shrugged."With what?"

"Fighting," Vilkas said sarcastically.

"Aye, really?"She snapped, the fire in her rearing up. "I am proficient with knives, daggers, bows and my fists if necessary." Nayna turned back to Kodlak, lowering her tone. "I have much to learn still about swords, axes and other weapons."

Kodlak smiled at her. "That's the spirit. Here, Vilkas will test your arm. Use whatever you feel most comfortable with."

"Uh, now?" Nayna asked.

"Yes, now. You can't schedule appointments for battle, whelp," Vilkas sneered.

"I've been awake for two days---" Nayna started, but Kodlak interrupted her.

"--that may be so,but Vilkas is right. You may have days where you don't sleep and you have to fight. Prove to him your worth."

Nayna curled her toes in her boots, but nodded in acceptance. Vilkas smirked in triumph, and sauntered out past her. She gave a respectful bow to Kodlak and followed Vilkas down the hall. He was strapping a short sword to his side and shield to his back.

"Come on.....whelp."

Her eyes narrowed."Don't call me whelp."

Vilkas stopped and merely looked at her. "Whelp. Out in the yard. Now."

He led her up the stairs and to the practice yard. As she trudged through the hall, she kept her focus on her feet, hoping not to catch anyone's attention.

Once they were there he drew his sword and gripped his shield. "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it."

His eyes flickered over her shoulder and she turned to see everyone from the hall filing outside to watch. Her cheeks burned red. She sighed and brushed her hair away from her face and tied it back with a bootlace from her pocket.

"What are you scared of, whelp? Hit me." He taunted.

Nayna closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before sliding the stolen daggers from her belt. Proper form, she reminded herself. Feet just so, she thought as she slid her feet into position. If she wasn't careful, she'd fall asleep standing, so she snapped her eyes open. Vilkas had lowered his shield and was shaking his head at her, as if she'd proven to him she wouldn't make it. She narrowed her eyes and sprang forward with a loud battle cry.

He was startled and barely had enough time to bring his shield up. She wailed into it with her daggers, slamming as hard as she could. He slammed the shield forward, sending her reeling backwards, and scrambling for her footing. She used her sliding momentum to twirl around and then throw herself towards Vilkas, hammering him again with her dagger. She landed on one foot and stabbed her dagger hard enough into the wood that not only was Vilkas knocked back, but the dagger stuck as well.

"Enough,"he panted, lowering the sword and shield. "You might just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you. Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are."

"Sharpen your sword?" she asked indignantly. "What do I look like--"

"--You look like a whelp. Go on now. It's not going to walk itself up to the Skyforge."

Nayna looked back at Skjor, whose arms were crossed over his chest. "You heard him whelp. Off you get."

Vilkas smirked at her and left her stupidly stand there, holding his sword.She saw that Skjor was laughing, banging on Vilkas's back as they retreated into Jorrvaskr.

Farkas grinned. "You nearly whipped his ass."

"Mmm,"Nayna said, the exhaustion beginning to overtake her. "Where is the Skyforge?"

Farkas pointed up. "Right there. Sounds like Eorlund is still working."

She started making her way to the Skyforge and stopped. She turned and smiled gently at Farkas. "Thank you."

He smiled back at her. "Anytime."

She dragged herself up the stairs of the forge and came face to face with an older man.

He raised his eyebrows. "What brings you here? Quickly, girl, I'm not much for talkin and I've got a lot of steel to shape."

Nayna licked her lips and said. "Vilkas sent me to have his sword sharpened."

"I'm guessing you're the newcomer then?"

Nayna smiled wryly. "What gave it away? Vilkas always ask the newcomers for favors?"

Eorlund laughed. ""Oh, don't worry too much about it. They were all whelps once. They just might not like to talk about it. And don't always just do what you're told. Nobody rules anybody in the Companions."

She sighed. "Just doing what I'm told."

"That attitude would get you far, if you were some stuffy merchant or a Jarl's footstool. Around here, you'll want to learn to live your own life. Remember, nobody rules anybody in the Companions."

Nayna nodded politely, but she just wanted to get the sword back to Vilkas so she could find a bed to curl up on.

Eorlund shook his head at her. "Anyway, while I'm doing this, would you mind doing me a favor?"

Nayna raised her eyebrow, tempted to say something smart assed, but thought better of it. "Yes?"

"I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me."

"Yeah, sure."

"That's a good girl. Thank you."

He handed her the shield and then turned to the grindstone. Back down the stairs she trudged. Farkas was still sitting outside when she walked up. He waved. She waved back.

"Have you seen Aela?"

"She's probably in her rooms. Downstairs and then," Farkas frowned. He held up his hands and considered them for a moment. "Down the hall, left and left."

"Okay. Thanks."

He stood up and opened the door. "After you."

She nodded, too weak to even smile. Nayna found Aela's rooms, but Skjor was already there and again Nayna felt like interrupting wouldn't be proper, so she hovered awkwardly outside of the room, cursing them.

"Ready for the hunt tonight?" Aela asked with longing in her voice. Nayna frowned, the hunt? Her mind wasn't grasping all the words.

"Mmmm," Skjor replied. She then remembered the blood under his fingernails.

"Though, I've been thinking. We ought to be more....discreet."

"There's nothing wrong with what we're doing," Skjor said quickly.

"You know the old man doesn't like it. Let's just not be....too obvious."

Skjor looked up suddenly and grinned. "Got that first job done, whelp?"

She shrugged. "Eorlund asked me to give this to you, Aela."

Aela chuckled. "Been waiting for this. Saw you gave Vilkas a thrashing earlier."

Nayna tipped her head to the side as Skjor laughed. "Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that."

Aela grinned at Skjor but turned to Nayna. "Do you think you could take Vilkas in a real fight?"

Nayna shrugged. "Maybe one day we'll find out."

Both Aela and Skjor burst out laughing.

"I told you, she has fire. It's there, someone just has to stroke it. Looks like it was Vilkas this time," Skjor said.

"What?"Nayna gasped which made Skjor and Aela laugh harder. She took a step back,trying to mask the hurt and indignation on her face.

"Hey Farkas!"Aela yelled.

Farkas popped his head in. "You call me?"

Aela rolled her eyes. "Of course we did, Icebrain. Show the new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep."

Farkas grinned. "Follow me."

As she was leaving she saw Skjor tuck a loose strand of Aela's hair behind her ear. She looked down, embarrassed.

"Skjor and Aela like to tease me," Farkas said over his shoulder. Nayna hurried to catch up to him. "But they're good people....Here ya go.Guess everyone is anxious to meet you."

Nayna's heart dropped as she rounded the corner. The other whelps were laughing and joking until she came in. All stared at her.

"That's Njada,"he pointed at the brawling woman from earlier. "Athis," he pointed to the woman's opponent, the elf. "Torvar," Farkas pointed to the drunken man from earlier. "And you remember Ria."

Nayna nodded and gave a little wave.

Farkas's hands came down on her shoulders. "This is the new blood. Nayna.Your bed is in the corner there."

"Thanks,"Nayna smiled weakly. She sat down on the bed and began unlacing her boots with everyone watching. She pretended not to care.

"Hey,"Farkas said. She looked up at him. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was leaning in the door frame. "If you're looking for work, we need some muscle right here in the hold. Just go rough em up and scare the milk-drinker into submission."

"Milk drinker?" Nayna asked, amused as she pulled off one boot.

"Yeah.Like I said, just rough em up a bit. I don't wanna hear about a killing, ok?"

"Ooookay."

"When you're done, if you need more work come to me or Aela."

Nayna nodded and removed her other boot. She was gross and disgusting and sure she smelled absolutely awful. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a bath, but all she was looking forward to was laying down. Sleep came, swift and hard. And she slept for two days straight.


	7. The Calling

Nayna sighed in contentment and slid down further in the tub. Aela had been kind enough to lend Nayna her room and bathing tub. Tilma, the housekeeper, had been kind enough to help her fill the tub with hot water.

Nayna washed of five days worth of filth and dirt. She couldn't believe only five days had passed since Helgen. As she scrubbed, she mused that it felt like both yesterday and an eon ago. All she had been doing was crossing the border into Skyrim. She walked right into the same Imperial ambush meant for Ulfric Stormcloak. She may have gone free,had she not been wearing the amulet of Talos. One of the only tokens she'd had from her mother, along with her bow. They had taken both and her horse too. Fucking Ulfric Stormcloak. She couldn't decide who she hated more---General Tullis or Ulfric Stormcloak. Though, Ulfric couldn't have possibly known or had anything to do with her actual capture. She hated him on pure circumstance alone. General Tullis would have executed her no matter what. He didn't care who she was or where she came from. Her father---no she wouldn't think about her father. He was on the most hated list. Fuck, her whole family fit on that list.

Nayna was staring at nothing on the wall and did not notice the door swinging open.

"Aela, have you seen---oh shit, sorry whelp," Skjor said, half covering his eyes.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Nayna cried, reaching for a linen towel with one hand,covering herself with the other.

"Didn't realize I had to knock on my own woman's door," he pointed out.

"Okay,well.....stop looking," her voice rose about an octave.

"Hard not to,"he said, grinning.

"Get out!"

"Did you finish that job for Farkas yet?"

What the fuck? Why wouldn't he leave?

"No!Get out!"

He laughed. "Come see me when you're done whelp."

"Yeah, whatever,just leave!"

"You look good,whelp."

Nayna reached over the side of the tub and grabbed the first thing in her reach---one of her boots. She threw it as hard as she could at Skjor. It hit him in the chest and he caught it with a chuckle.

"I'm going, I'm going."

He tossed the boot on the floor and pulled the door closed behind him as he left. She ignored the tingly feeling in her body, chalking it up to the long lack of affection and reached for the towel again.

After she dried herself off, she realized she had a slight dilemma. Her armor was rank—Tilma had promised to clean it, but, even then it would take awhile. She had no other clothes except that fucking green dress she wore on the ride to Helgen. It was only slightly less rank than her armor. She sighed and slipped the dress on, grumbling to herself. Butshe couldn't go meet Jarl Balgruuf in sweaty, smelly armor. He was probably angry enough at her for not showing sooner.

She stopped in front of Aela's mirror and sighed. She'd lost so much weight since leaving High Rock. Her normally round face was full of angles and her chin jutted out sharper than ever. From "pleasantly" plump, now down to hallowed cheeks, and pointed collarbones. Even the ugly green dress was too big on her. And she was so pale too. Probably from lackof sleep and food. She leaned forward and pinched her cheeks, just as she'd seen her sisters do when she was younger since their father forbade rouge. She'd just have to live with the dark smudges under her brown eyes.

Nayna bent at the waist and combed her fingers through her long brown hair. She worked out the tangles and knots as best as she could and then braided her hair in it's usual style, falling over her shoulder.

"That'll have to do," she sighed and slipped on her belt with the daggers. She jammed her feet into the stolen boots and vowed to buy herself more when she had the coin.

 

Upstairs in the mead hall, only a few people were milling around. One of them was of course Vilkas. The other was Farkas.

It was Farkas who greeted her first. "There she is! Haha did you dress all pretty for me?"

Nayna grinned. "You should only be so lucky, Farkas."

Farkas nudged his brother. "You see, she likes me."

Vilkas only snorted and went back to his own food. Nayna sat on Farkas's other side and began piling her plate with food. Her new mission—besides meeting with the Jarl and kicking some woman's ass—was to put on a little more weight. She could use the extra padding.

"Little hungry?'Farkas asked.

"A little?Noooooo," she said and shoved a mixture of eggs, sausage and potatoes in her mouth.

"What are your plans for today?" He asked.

"I have to go seethe Jarl about the dragon," She said in between bites. "Then do that job for you."

"Okay, when you're done though, Vilkas needs to see you."

She raised her eyebrows. "For what?"

"He said--"

"--I'm sitting right here, I can hear both of you dunderheads. Training. You need to train," Vilkas said eyeing her.

"Train in what?"Nayna reached for a mug of water and sipped.

"Does the whelp ask questions or does the whelp do what she's told?" he snapped.

She paused with the fork half way to her mouth. "And here I thought I wanted to prepare, like a good student."

Vilkas narrowed his eyes, but Farkas cut in. "Hey, hey now. You guys can fight in the yard later."

Nayna shrugged and went back to eating, pretending not to be bothered by Vilkas. But she was. Something about him....

She studied the twins and laughed internally. How she mistook Vilkas for Farkas could only have been explained by a severe lack of sleep and judgment. They were identical in many ways, but there were the subtle differences that stood out for her. Farkas favored his left hand, while Vilkas favored his right. The scars on Vilkas' face shadowed his left cheek,while Farkas had one long scar on his right. Farkas was taller and bigger than his twin, but that didn't overshadow Vilkas' strength or brawn in any way.

"What?" Vilkas snapped.

She pushed her chair back and patted her belly. "I feel better already. Better head out. See you boys later."

And she flounced away before Vilkas had the chance to nip at her ankles.

 

On the walk up to Dragonsreach, her stomach churned. She was beginning to regret all the food she'd eaten. It was threatening to reappear, and quickly.She swallowed several times before pushing the door open.

A ringing sounded in her head as she approached the Jarl. She stopped and the Jarl's steward reached for her elbow. Her hands flew to her head; the agony.It was worse than when those damned Imperials knocked her over the head. She cowered down, digging her fingernails into her hair. If she thought her breakfast was threatening before, now it was bubbling to the surface. The ground started to shake.

That was when she heard the voices. "DO VAH KIIN! DO VAH KIIN!!! DOOOOO VAAAAAHKIIIIIIIN!"

And as quickly as its tarted, the pain stopped, the nausea cleared and she felt sane again. The steward helped her to her feet with an incredulous look onhis face. The same face everyone, including the Jarl wore.

The Jarl's brother, Hrongar was the first to speak. "The summons. That must have what it was."

The steward piped up. "Hrongar, calm yourself. What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this, what, 'Dragonborn.'"

Hrongar swelled with outrage "Nord nonsense?! Why you puffed-up ignorant... these are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!"

Jarl Balgruuf held up his hand. "Hrongar. Don't be so hard on Avenicci."

The steward sniffed. "I meant no disrespect, of course. It's just that... what do these Greybeards want with her?"

Balgruuf said."That's the Greybeards' business, not ours."He turned to Nayna, stroking his chin. "Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you're Dragonborn, who are we to argue? You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons ofthe Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor."

Nayna bit her lip. "High Hrothgar...."

The Jarl nodded. "It's at the throat of the world."

"Yes,"Nayna said distractedly. She opened her mouth to ask what he thought it all meant, but he was continuing on.

He placed his hands on either side of the throne and pushed himself up."You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right asJarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that'swithin my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl,and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office. I'llalso notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to thinkyou're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn."

He handed her an axe and she slipped it on her belt without a second thought. It was all happening so fast. Dragonborn, summoned to see theGreybeards, whose legendary tales she heard from her mother, and nowshe was a Thane of the city. She clamped her lips shut to prevent a nervous giggle from escaping.

It seemed like everyone was waiting for her to say something, so she said the only thing that came to mind. "Thank you."

Inside her head she was slapping herself. Balgruuf smiled. "No, thank you.Go to High Hrothgar."

She realized then she was being dismissed, so she bowed and then turned to leave. At the doors she was stopped by Lydia.

"I'm Lydia, your housecarl. I'm your sword and your shield."

"Lydia...."Nayna swallowed nervously. "It's nice to meet you. Um, if you'll excuse me...."

"I'll be here if you need me, my Thane."

Nayna nodded absentmindedly. It wasn't really that the title bothered her,it wasn't a new concept for her. She trailed in the wake of her father's family and their obnoxious amounts of titles. She didn't necessarily think she had any obligation to Balgruuf. It was more than that. She felt less than deserving of it because she didn't want it. The last thing she needed was to catch any Imperial attention and Balgruuf had made no mention of which side of the war he favored.

If only she hadn't gotten caught....Fucking Ulfric Stormcloak. She shook her head and used her anger to fuel her to the potion shop. She had some ass to kick.

When she entered the shop the woman looked up. "Did you hear that earlier? Some are saying it's the calling of the Dragonborn. What do you think?"

Great,now she would have to hear about it at every turn. "I think you should learn to keep your mouth shut."

"Excuse me?"

Nayna crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

"What are you talking about?"The woman came from behind the counter to size her up.

"You know what I mean. I've been sent from the Companions---"

The woman busted out laughing. Nayna watched her for exactly two beats before she slapped her open palm against the woman's ear. She was caught off balance and staggered back.

"That's how it is? Fine, lets do this!" She cried holding up her fists.

Nayna's lips curled upwards as she mimicked the woman. It was an easy fight,clearly the alchemist had no previous fighting experience. Nayna simply blocked and dodged until she was given an opening and then she slammed the heel of her hand into the woman's nose, sending spurts of blood everywhere, including the hideous green dress. No great loss there.

The woman stumbled and Nayna caught her off guard with another slap to the ear. She wasn't going to beat this poor woman any bloodier than she had to. And she was going to try to take her down with minimal bruising. All she had to do was give a few good hits in the right places.

The woman came at Nayna again lifting her fist. This time Nayna caught it and twisted until the woman cried out, "Stop! Stop! Please!"

"Are you done selling bad potions to good people?" Nayna asked.

"Yes,"the woman gasped. "I'm sorry. Let me go!"

Nayna obliged. "We're done here."

She left the shop and bounced her way back to Jorrvaskr, all the Dragonborn and Thane business out of her mind for the time being. Farkas was still sitting at the table.

He looked up at her. "Gettin tired of sittin around here all day."

Nayna grinned. "I bet. You shoulda been on that mission."

"Did you hear that rumbling?" Farkas asked.

Nayna sighed her good mood floated away. "Yeah, felt it too."

"Wonder what it means....."

"I don't know...." she lied. "Anyway, that job is complete."

"Hmmph. Nice work, here's your share," he said as he handed her a bag of coin.

"Word travels fast around here doesn't it? Thanks."

Farkas chuckled. "Sometimes. Vilkas is waiting for you in the yard."

"Okay,let me change into my armor and I'll be out there terrectly," She said.

"Don't be too long. My brother isn't a patient man."

"Really?"

"Yes,really," Farkas said missing the sarcasm. Nayna didn't correct him,just smiled and went to change into her armor.

She found it laying on her bed, nice and clean. She would have to do something for Tilma. Nayna hurriedly shimmied into her armor and vowed to burn the green dress at the next best opportunity. She made her way out to the yard, where of course, yet again, everyone was gathered. The humiliation would never end.

She walked over to Vilkas. "You wanted to teach me?"

He looked her up and down. "Yeah. Thing is, you're too small for a two handed weapon."

She bristled but he cut her off. "You won't have enough strength. You lack the power to put your weight behind it and do some damage. You might get a blow or two in, but when a foe comes at you, he'd break your arms while you tried to block. A great axe or a great sword lack the absorption of a shield. Have you ever used a short sword?"

"Not really. Was never my thing," Nayna said. "The closest I've come to anything that big is a war axe."

Vilkas nodded at her. "You'll need to vary your style. Where did you learn how to fight?"

Nayna shrugged. "My mother taught me how to shoot and when I was sentaway to Daggerfall, I honed my skills there. I learned knife fighting in the arena."

Vilkas' eyebrows shot up, but it was Skjor who spoke first. "You fought in the arena, whelp?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

"Impressive. Did you win?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you end up fighting in the arena, whelp?"

Nayna watched Skjor for a moment, considering if she should answer or not.Finally she said "My brother loved to gamble. He taught me a few knife tricks when I was younger and told me to win. If I lost...well...let's just say I learned not to lose and leave it at that....OK?"

Her voice came out more tersely than she meant, but Skjor didn't press her further, he merely came down into the yard with a sword and handed it to her.

"Nope. Your grip is bad, whelp."

Vilkas piped in. "And your stance is wrong."

Nayna felt like a puppet as they worked to correct her stance. Instead of instructing her where to move her body, they moved it for her. Skjor positioned her sword arm while Vilkas positioned her feet and knees.Then Skjor stood behind her and put his hands on her waist. She stiffened up.

"Relax,"he said. "keep the tension from your back and keep it in your midriff." He slid his hands around to indicate where the tension should lie.

Nayna felt her face getting red and her heart pounding. The tingly feeling was returning along with a rolling sensation in her stomach. He moved his hands lower, to her hips and swiveled them in place. He stepped back.

"Should be good,"he said to Vilkas and then rejoined Aela and the others.

Vilkas stood in front of her and grinned. "Now....try to hit me."

For hours she trained with Vilkas, imagining she was wailing into Ulfric Stormcloak himself. If only he hadn't been there....


	8. Riften

By day she ran jobs for Aela and Farkas and by evening she trained with Skjor and Vilkas. Sometimes Torvar and Ria joined them. She still preferred her knives, but could hold her own with a sword. Her proudest moment came when she disarmed Skjor himself.

They all whistled at her, but Skjor looked at her with pride. "Nice one whelp."

She bowed her head with modesty, but a small smile gathered on her lips."It wasn't that hard."

"Haha, smartass," Skjor said and he clapped her on the back. "Go take a break, you earned it."

Nayna climbed the stairs to the deck and sat with Ria and Njada. She liked Ria, who had welcomed her with open arms and offered to show her the ropes. Njada was a different story. She took one look at Nayna and announced, in front of everyone, "I don't know why Skjor let you in, in the first place."

Nayna's pride was hurt but she had said nothing at the time, preferring to stay silent. Athis on the other hand had laughed and whispered,"Probably the tight fit."

Of course everyone looked away at that point and Farkas had muttered,"Don't let Skjor hear you talkin like that."

And it had shut them both up. She'd been used to being made fun of, and of pointedly ignoring those who did.

That evening Njada seemed too preoccupied to bother with Nayna, for which she was eternally grateful.

Nayna smiled and turned to Ria. "So, why did you join the Companions? I don't think I ever asked."

Ria giggled. "Are you kidding? I've wanted to be with them since I was a little girl.Haven't you heard the stories of Kodlak and Skjor fighting off the hundred-and-one Orc berserkers? Skjor says it was more like forty,but he's just being modest. Where else would I want to be but here?Learning with them, fighting at their sides."

"A hundred-and-one? Hah. And modest is not the first word that comes to mind when I think of Skjor," Nayna joked.

Njada swiveled her face to Nayna. "No, it wouldn't be, would it?"

Ria rolled her eyes. "Oh Njada, lay off."

Njada smirked. "Don't you mean lay over?"

Nayna sighed and stood. "Speaking of laying--" she cleared her throat as Njada snickered. "It's late and I'm beat. Got a muscle job to run for Farkas tomorrow in Riften."

"You be careful," Ria called as Nayna walked into the hall. She headed straight for her bed and shimmied out of her armor and into a sleeping gown.

Her days and evenings were busy, but the nights were ever so slow. If she didn't dream about the hellfires of Helgen, she was dreaming about her mother's death. If not that, then she was dreaming about High Hrothgar and what awaited her there. And if not that, then well....she dreamt of Skjor.

She saw now that she was developing a little girl crush on him and she hated it. He wasn't particularly handsome, at least twice her age,but he listened to her and made her laugh. It was more than anyone else had ever done for her. Sure, Farkas did the same things, but his wit didn't quite match her own.

Nayna tried to take on as many jobs from Farkas as she could to escape both Aela and Skjor. She could barely look at Aela in the eyes, knowing she desired Aela's man. Sometimes Nayna was caught off guard, but she always took Aela's jobs with a smile on her face. And Skjor always seemed to gravitate to her whenever she was at Jorrvaskr.

Nayna curled up on her side and willed herself to dream of anything but Skjor. But it didn't work. It never did.

That night she dreamt she was standing on the steps to Jorrvaskr, staring up at the mead hall debating if she should return or not. Something had happened, something bad, but she didn't know what, she couldn't rid herself of the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

A hand grabbed her elbow and she spun around. It was Skjor, of course.She reached her hand to him and he encircled her wrist between his thumb and forefinger. He guided her hand to his face and nuzzled her palm.

"You should go back," He said, kissing her palm. "You're missed."

"I...I can't..." She whispered. "It's all wrong."

"No,it's not," he said. "Don't make me push you back in there,whelp."

"I can't, please, you have to understand," she pleaded, though she had no idea what she was pleading for.

"I don't understand. You've never been afraid of anything in your life,whelp. This isn't you."

"Me not afraid? I'm always afraid. I'm a...." She licked her lips not wanting to say the word.

"The Nayna I know isn't a coward. She's brave and bold and free," Skjor scolded.

She tried pulling her hand back, but he held it steady.

Nayna shook her head vigorously. "I have always run away. I've never faced my fears. Only when you were there to push me on."

Skjor said nothing, but took a step closer and leaned over her. "Shhh,"he whispered and wiped the tears from her round cheeks. She hadn't even noticed she was crying.

"Shhhh,"he said again and leaned his face down, meeting his lips with hers.

Her eyes snapped open and she groaned out loud. Across from her Ria snorted in her sleep and rolled over.

These dreams had to stop, she thought to herself as she yanked on her stockings. She had no clue how early or late it was. It didn't matter. She was going to Riften right then, even if it was still semi light out. She buckled herself into her armor, shoved her feet into her boots and braided her hair to the side, as always.

She checked over her bag, making sure she had enough potions, food and water to last her a bit on the road. After deciding everything was in order she stepped into the hallway.

Down to her left she could hear muffled moans coming from Aela's room. She stared down the hall for a moment and sighed. She had to get away.

"Eavesdropping?"a voice asked from in front of her. She started, and came toe to toe with Vilkas.

"Um,"she said, biting her lip, knowing her face was as red as an apple.

"Hard not to," Vilkas chuckled.

Nayn atossed her head to the side. "Yeah."

"Off to Riften?" He asked gesturing at her bag.

"Uh,yeah, that man isn't going to beat himself up, you know," she offered flippantly, her mind still on the sounds coming from Aela's room.

Vilkas snorted. "Don't tarry too long. I have a job for you when you ge tback."

"It better not be sharpening your sword again."

"Watch your tongue, whelp."

"Stop calling me that!"

"You think you're so special only Skjor can call you that? Do you hear that?" He paused, long enough for Aela's moans to permeate their conversation. "That's the sound of you not being special. At all."

Nayna took a step back. She blinked rapidly to avoid tears. She looked away biting her lip. Finally she spoke, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "Yeah, thanks for the reminder. I really needed that."

She moved past him, knocking into him with her shoulder. He stumbled back a bit before regaining his footing.

"Hey!"he yelled at her, but she slammed the hall door in his face.

 

She had originally planned to take a carriage and Lydia to Riften, but decided against it. She just wanted to be alone to think and not think. Her heart ached, not just for the horrible reminder Vilkas had given her, but for Vilkas's cruelty. She had merely meant to tease him about the sword, but instead he lashed out at her, at the one soft spot. Nayna realized that she had opened herself up to it. When she returned she'd have to put Skjor at arms length. It was the only way.

It took her an entire day to reach Riften. She did her best to not think about Skjor and definitely to not give thought to Vilkas. On the way she stopped a few times, hiding out from bandits, fighting a few sabre cats and even a dragon. Her supplies were already running low.She went straight to the inn and rented a room to crash for the night.

In the morning she wandered down to the main floor and ordered bread,water and cheese. As she broke her fast she scanned the room for the man she was supposed to be putting in his place. She found the Imperial Mage sitting in the corner, staring off at nothing. Well,this would be difficult. She cracked her neck in preparation and pushed her chair from the table.

Just as she was about to stand a rather tall Nord man plunked his tankard down on the table across from her and sat in the chair.

Nayna raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I help you?"

He had wavy reddish brown hair, not too far from her own coloring, and sharp clear blue eyes. He was handsome, scars and all, there was no doubt about it and when he smiled at her she felt her heart flutter.And then she felt guilty. And then confusion set in. She wrinkled her nose at him in response.

But when he spoke, it was the brogue in his voice that gave her the tingles. "Bet you've never done an honest days work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Beg your pardon."

"Oh,I think you heard me lass."

"I'm sure I heard wrong," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

He chuckled and drank from his tankard. "I bet you have real good hearing."

"Most times, but sometimes, it gets a little foggy."

She was flirting with the man who had just called her a thief. What the hell was wrong with her? And why did she feel like she was betraying Skjor? There was no her and Skjor. She shook her head, as if to shake the very thoughts from it.

He was watching her, interested. "Bit of a moral dilemma there?"

She snorted. "Not the kind you think. Anyway, what makes you think I'm dishonest?"

"Oh it's all about sizing up your mark."

Nayna busted out laughing. "So how big is my....mark?"

He grinned in response. "Huge. In the most delightful way, lass."

He slid the tankard over to her and she shook her head at him. "I don't drink."

"That's a new one I've never heard before."

Nayna shrugged and slid it back to him. "The offer is much appreciated.Anyway, it's been....fun, but I have some ass to kick."

"An ass kicker?" He looked her up and down.....sizing up her mark.

"Yeah,I may be tiny, but my foot makes for an excellent..." And she stopped, face turning bright pink.

The man's shoulders shook as he tried to contain his inappropriate laughter.

"What's your name?" she said, changing the subject before she embarrassed herself further.

"Aye,name's Brynjolf. What about you, lass?"

"Nayna,"she said.

"Nayna,"he repeated and her heart did the stupid fluttery thing again. And then she gave him a stupid, goofy grin, which he endearingly returned.

And then she said something stupid. "But you can keep calling me lass all day long."

"May just do that....lass."

Nayna looked down at the plate on the table. She could see her distorted reflection. She saw her hair wasn't as smooth as she wanted it to be,her face hadn't filled out yet, she still had that hallow, hungry look. She chewed on her bottom lip anxiously, and looked up, watching Marcurio, her own mark, as he drummed his fingers on his knee.

"Go get him lass. You can take him."

"Aye,"she said, taking a deep breath. "We shall see."


	9. The Deadly Mage

"Well, lass. If you ever want to make some extra coin...."

Nayna smiled softly."I know who to look for."

Brynjolf chucked."Aye. Hope to see you soon, lass."

She watched him saunter out of the Bee n Barb. He was just as good looking from behind as he was from the front. That was the last good part of he rday.

She approached Marcurio, much the same way she had with Arcadia. She explained her reasons, calmly, succinctly. His head was bobbing yes, but his eyes were saying no no no.

"Look, you know how the Nords feel about magicka," Nayna said. "Hell, I'm Breton, so I don't understand it either, but this is Skyrim and it's my job--" She never got to finish before he slammed his fist in her face.

The rest of the fight was a blur until he used a destruction spell on her, causing her to fall to the ground. He jumped atop her and closed his hands around her throat, slamming her head hard against the floor. She struggled and looked around for help, but everyone was standing in a grim circle, just watching.

She did everything she could to gain ground on him, but he was holding her down with more than just his body. Everything was fuzzy, cloudy and there was no counter spell that she knew of. If only she could reach her dagger, but all attempts she made were in vain.

Anger and despair reared in her heart. Now she would never be a true Companion. She would never joke with Farkas again, never sit up late chatting with Aela and Ria again, nor would she ever bicker with Vilkas again. She wouldn't see Skjor....and she would never get to curse the name of Ulfric Stormcloak again, which made her irrationally angrier than anything else.

With that last thought she brought her knee up and knocked his nads into his throat. He roared in pain and rolled off her. She coughed and spluttered, gasping for air, crawling away. Marcurio grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. Something bit into her calf and suddenly her brain went into over drive. She grabbed her dagger while kicking him with her other foot. She dragged her useless, bleeding leg across the wooden floorboards and behind her. When he came at her again she slashed and slashed and slashed until the mage lay in a dead, bloodied heap on the floor.

Everyone was staring at her. She shakily pulled a cloth from her knapsack and pressed it to her calf.

"Excuse me," a raven-haired business-like woman came up to her. "I think it's best if you leave now."

The crowd murmured in agreement. Nayna stood on shaky legs and tied the cloth tightly around her calf. She limped out of the tavern and then the city, most of the eyes on her.

"Sir,"she said to the carriage driver. "How much to Whiterun?"

"That'll be 50 gold, love."

Nayna counted out the coin and handed it to him.

"Climb in back and we'll be off."

Once in the cart and making the bumpy ride to Whiterun, her heart stopped racing and the agony of what just happened hit her. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. He died.....She killed him....They were going to kick her out of the Companions, even if the killing was justified.

It wasn't the killing that bothered her. She'd killed before, in the same sort of situations---the Captain for instance, and felt no remorse. Even now she felt like she hadn't had a choice. Maybe the Mage had been under a a frenzy spell....It mattered not because he was no more. And it was her fault. Nayna felt sick to her stomach.She couldn't tell if it was the pain in her head or the ache in her heart, but she signaled for the driver to stop so she could vomit over the side of the cart.

She gasped, her throat burning. "Fucking Ulfric Stormcloak."

Yet again she told herself if it hadn't been for Ulfric and his damnable war, she would have been somewhere far, far away by now....But then she wouldn't have met Skjor or any of the Companions. The sinking in her stomach lowered at the thought of Skjor and what he would say to her about her failure.

The carriage dropped her off at the gate of Whiterun, instead of the stables because, as the driver put it "You look mighty worn down,love."

She pushed through the gate and hobbled her way to Jorrvaskr, standing at the bottom of the steps. She had a feeling of deja vu, but couldn't place it. The thought of going in was hell, but the thought of not going in was worse.

The doors opened just as she was about to climb the stairs and Aela came walking out with Skjor. Neither of them saw her at first, instead joking and laughing and touching each other. Nayna looked away with shame.

It was Skjor who saw her first. "Whelp! Where the fuck have you been?"

Tears threatened to spill over again, so she squeezed her eyes shut and willed them away.

"Nayna?"This time it was Aela, and her voice was much closer. She touched Nayna's shoulder and Nayna cringed away.

"Whelp,are you alright?" Skjor's tone had softened.

"Yeah,"she said, only her voice wasn't alright. "Just tired."

She opened her eyes and saw Aela motioning to her, raising the torch higher.

"Whelp,you look like you got beat pretty---what happened to your neck?" Skjor demanded and pulled away the collar of the shirt under her armor.

Nayna slapped his hand away. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Nayna...."Aela said.

"I'm fine, you two go....where ever it is you were going." Nayna gave her best courtier smile, but it wasn't fooling either of them.

"Come on, let's get you patched up, whelp," he said, putting his hand on the back of her head. Nayna instinctively jerked away. Too much weight on her calf, and down she went, whimpering in pain. Both Skjor and Aela went to catch her and help her up.

"No! Don't touch me!" Nayna snapped. She panted and coughed roughly.

They backed off but stared down at her and she couldn't stave off the tears. Nayna sat back and buried her face in her hands and cried. Neither of them said a word or made a move towards her again and for that she was thankful.

She pulled a handkerchief from her bag and wiped her face clear of tears,blood and snot. She hiccuped loud into the quiet night.

Finally Skjor spoke. "You about done there, whelp?"

"Yeah,"Nayna said. "Guess so."

Aela and Skjor raised her to her feet and helped her up the stairs and into Jorrvaskr. No one else was up at this late hour, thank Talos. They seated her in a chair and sat on either side of her.

"What happened?" Aela asked.

Nayna stared down at the snot rag in her hand. "I fucked up."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "I was supposed to run a muscle job forFarkas. You know, rough the mark up a bit. Only....that's not what happened."

"He dead?" Skjor asked.

Nayna nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yeah....I don'tknow....I don't know how I did it.....I can't believe I did it...."

"It's happened to all of us, one time or another," Aela said. "We don't kill for sport, we're not the Dark Brotherhood, but we don't expect you to roll over and die for nothing. That's not honorable, it's just stupid. It's clear you were unjustly attacked." She gestured to the marks on Nayna's neck. "The worst that'll happen is your pay being cut and Farkas may be a little irritated with you."

She couldn't imagine Farkas angry, and less could she imagine the coin so she laughed sardonically. "My pay? I don't give two shits about the coin. I don't deserve it anyway."

Skjor grinned. "See? That's the spirit of a true Companion, whelp."

"Yeah, way to match the gravity of the situation," Nayna said sarcastically.

"Look, whelp. It happened. You can sit here and brood or you can accept it and move on."

"I think I'll brood for a while," Nayna said softly.

Skjor shook his head. "You're getting to be more like Vilkas everyday. Suit yourself."

"Fuck Vilkas," she muttered.

"Hey,watch your tongue. I like you, but I'm not above knocking you on your ass. Respect is earned whelp, not given," Skjor said, standing up. Aela followed suit. "Brood all you like, but get those looked at," he pointed to her injuries."And you pissed Vilkas off before you left. Better go make that right too. Now, let's go, Aela."

Nayna sighed as they left. She had a lot of thinking to do....Thinking that lasted throughout the night.

 

She was still staring at the fire in the early hours of the morning when Vilkas came up to break his fast. He did a double take when he saw her and stared blatantly at her.

Finally he spoke. "Don't you know any healing spells?"

Nayna looked at him slowly and began to laugh. His brow furrowed and he glared at her. "I don't see what's so funny." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at my own stupidity.Yes, I know a few healing spells. And no, I don't know why I didn't bother using them."

Vilkas's face relaxed and he sat next to her. "The other day--"

"--don't,"Nayna said softly. "I'd rather just...let it go. Please."

Vilkas considered her for a moment, then changed tactics. "Why don't you heal yourself now?"

"I'm not used to using much magic anymore," she admitted. "I know thatmost Nords are...uncomfortable with the magical arts, so....I don't out of respect."

"Hmmph." Vilkas said and ripped a chunk off his bread.

"I suppose I should."

They sat in silence for a while. Nayna took the time to pull some blue magicka potions from her bag and line them up on the table. She removed the rag from her calf and winced. The scratch was longer anddeeper than she expected and bright red. She prayed she didn't have an infection, because it would have made the wound impossible to heal. She closed her eyes and felt the glowing in her hands and warmth spreading throughout her body as she healed her neck and leg. Faint bruises and marks would remain, but at least the major damage would be taken care of. When she finished Vilkas was staring intently at her.

He finally spoke. "Muscle job go wrong?"

Nayna nodded morosely. "You could say that."

"Aye,happens to all of us. First muscle job I went on they sent me to beatup a little girl.....she couldn't have been bigger than you. Icouldn't do it. There was no honor in it. They made fun of me for months after that, but what honor is there in beating the stuffing out of some poor defenseless girl?"

"At least you didn't kill her," Nayna said.

Vilkas raised his eyebrows. "Not her, no."

Nayna chewed thoughtfully. "Vilkas....."

"Yes?"

"You said you had a job for me when I got back?"

"Oh,well....I gave that to Torvar."

"Alright."

They lapsed into another silence. But silence with Vilkas was different.It was the comfortable silence of two thinkers doing what they do best. Nayna watched him from the corner of her eye. He sat beside her and stared into the fire, silently brooding along with her, picking at his food.

Vilkas sighed and tossed his bread down.

She raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

He only grunted. Nayna started to speak, but was interrupted by the return of Aela and Skjor.

Vilkas narrowed his eyes at them. "You two been out all night?"

"You got a problem, Vilkas?" Skjor asked.

"I'm not the one with the problem," Vilkas muttered.

"Oh,but I think you are, Vilkas," Aela countered.

Nayna's eyes swiveled between the three of them in confusion.

"Don't think we all don't know what you're doing, Aela."

"Hmm,don't think you're always right, Vilkas," Aela called over her shoulder as she headed down to the living quarters.

Vilkas squinted at the door after it slammed behind her.

Skjor sat himself down on Nayna's other side and reached for the jug of wine. As he poured himself a mug she noticed the blood under his fingernails again. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, but she swallowed it down.

"You're looking better, whelp," Skjor commented.

"Aye,well I realized that I could heal myself," Nayna said, quasi-rolling her eyes.

Skjor chuckled. "Well better late than dead."

"Hmmph,I had to remind her," Vilkas said.

This time Nayna rolled her eyes for real.

Skjor sighed. "Knock it off you two or I'll knock your heads together."

Nayna said nothing, instead she popped a chunk of sweet roll in her mouth.

"What are your plans for today, whelp?"

"Uh....sleep?"She half-joked.

"Be ready in five hours. You and me, we have a job to do today.Apparently the Battle-Borns had an old family heirloom stolen six nights past. They got word that some bandits are holed up in some watch tower in Falkreath."

Vilkas snorted. "I'm surprised Eorlund didn't have a fit when you took this job."

"Coin is coin. Someone has to sweep up the trash. Today it's gonna be me and the whelp. Make it your first little test, see how you do."

Nayna bit her lip, but Vilkas cut in. "She's not ready for her Trial yet."

"I didn't say it was her Trial. I want to see how she does in realcombat. None of the milk-drinker, whelp jobs she's been doing lately."

Vilkas bowed his head with a little smirk. "If you think it's necessary."

Nayna did not want this job. Or, she wished she could take anyoneelse but Skjor. It wasn't that she didn't want to go with him, she just knew what everyone would be thinking about the two of them.

"Five hours, whelp. If you're not ready by then, well...."Skjor grinned."You'll regret it.


	10. The Watchtower

They'd been traveling for half a day when they stopped to make camp.

Skjor laughed at her as she tried to build the fire. "Never done that before?"

"No, I read about it," she said in earnest. That only caused Skjor to laugh harder as he took the flint and steel away from her.

"Like this," he said and struck until sparks came flying out. He tended to the fire until it grew and then he tossed some more wood on it.

"Guess you didn't get out much in High Rock, did you?"

Nayna shrugged. "Magic. One simple fireball spell is all I needed."

Skjor rolled his good eye. "You Bretons and your magic."

"Mmm,"Nayna said, refusing to goad him into an argument.

"What part of High Rock you from, whelp? Don't recognize your accent."

Nayna furrowed her brow. "How would you know what a High Rock accent sounds like?"

"Been all over. After the great war I wandered around as a blade for hire. Spent quite a bit of time out in High Rock. Mostly Daggerfall, protecting the noble whelps from killing each other."

"Hmm,"Nayna said and sat across from the fire. She drew her knees to her chest. "Why'd you stop?"

Skjor stood on the opposite side of the fire, hands on his hips, staring down at her. "The money was good, and the women were good, and the drinks were good. But I was losing myself. My heart. I was lucky the Companions found me. Now there's a reason to be fighting. The honor of my brothers and sisters is worth more than coin. Of course, the money is still good. And the drinks!"

Nayna smiled up at him. "The women, eh?"

"Of course you would pick up on that. You're such a girl,"Skjor said, laughing.

Nayna didn't respond to him at first. She reached down, pulling and picking at the grass. When she spoke her voice was far away and she was gazing into the horizon. "I was actually born in Rorikstead. Lived with my mother and her man until I was 6 and my father came to lay claim on me. He was.....of noble birth and my mother was not.Naturally he won. Though I don't think my mother fought too hard for me, to be honest. My father took me back to Daggerfall. My brothers and sisters used to tease me over my accent, and I worked hard to speak like they did. Guess it didn't work so well."

She tossed the grass into the fire and sighed. "I grew up hearing about the Companions, actually. And then in Daggerfall, all of that just left and I was just a girl, barely even good enough to marry. You know," She flicked another piece of grass in the fire. "Being a bastard and all. Doesn't grant you many boons there, even if your father is....powerful and rich....." Nayna laughed sardonically. "I don't even know why I'm bothering to tell you this. It's stupid."

Skjor walked around the fire and sat on the grass next to her. "Your family sounds like mine. Bunch of tree hugging, bunny petting, milk drinkers."

Nayna busted out laughing and crossed her legs. "But I like milk."

Skjor just shook his head at her. "So you're a half-breed then?"

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry,is whelp better?"

"Yeah,it is. And my mother was a Nord." Nayna smiled wryly. "I look nothing like her and everything like my father's side of the family.Hell I look more like my father than any of my siblings.....my mother was tall and blonde and....everything a Nord woman should be....Actually, Aela reminds me of her a little."

"Was?"

Nayna rubbed her face on her shoulder. "Is....? I don't know. I haven't seen her in twenty years. Haven't heard from her, never got a letter,a gift, nothing."

Skjor appraised her. "You don't look twenty-six. You don't act like it either."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Depends on your perspective whelp."

The sky was beginning to fade to purple, and the air began to nip. Nayna scooted closer to the fire, shivering. Skjor pulled a jug of wine from his pack and pulled the cork out with his teeth. The loud popping noise echoed throughout the hills. Nayna winced and watched as Skjor took a swing from the jug. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and offered her the jug.

She shook her head. "I've got water, thanks."

Skjor raised his eyebrows. "Really, whelp? Take some."

A sigh passed through her lips. "I try to avoid alcohol. It tends to make me stupid."

He grunted and pulled a hunk of cheese and a loaf of bread from his pack. He ripped both the bread and cheese into two halves and offered her some. She accepted gratefully and together they ate and drank in comfortable silence, watching the sunset over the hills of Falkreath.

After they were finished Skjor stretched. "I'll take first watch, whelp.Get some sleep."

"Did you even sleep today?" She asked.

"The older I get the less sleep I need."

She lay down on her bedroll, propped up on one elbow, facing Skjor,studying him by the firelight. Even in profile, she could tell he was a warrior, simply by his stance. His every move was gracefully calculated down to the last footfall. Ria admitted once that even though she admired Skjor, he scared her too because he never smiled.Which was untrue, he smiled often at Nayna. She was beginning to think that he was returning her feelings, though, the love he held for Aela was stronger and neither blood nor bond could break it.There was no future for her and Skjor, but she at least hoped she would find a man like him—willing to love her to the ends of Oblivion and back. That's what she ultimately desired, a love like Skjor's and Aela's.

"What're you staring at, whelp?"

She flushed having been caught staring at him, but shrugged. "Nothing really. Just thinking."

"Yeah you do too much of that. You and Vilkas brood like no other."

"I don't brood," she pouted.

"Yeah,you do."

"Do not."

"Do too. Stop arguing with me, whelp."

"I'm not arguing...." she said, laughing.

"Sleep,whelp."

And so she did. When she awoke it was nearly dawn. She rubbed her eyes,and looked around for Skjor. He was sitting across from her, focused on sharpening his sword.

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?" She demanded, sitting up.

He barely glanced up at her. "You seemed like you needed it. We still have an hour or two before dawn, you take watch and wake me then."

After Skjor woke up they made their way towards the watchtower.

"Damnable bandits. Every since that snowberry started this war they've been overtly bold," Skjor said.

"Fucking Ulfric Stormcloak," Nayna said cheerfully.

Skjor laughed. "What's your problem with him, whelp?"

"Well,if he hadn't been at Dark Water Crossing, then maybe those damned Imperial's would've have snatched me. They assumed because I had an amulet of Talos that I was part of Ulfric Snowberry's rebellion."

"Sounds more like circumstance, whelp."

Nayna grunted. "Yeah but I have to blame someone. I can't take the blame for everything."

"What am I going to do with you, whelp?"

"Admit it, you think I'm cute and funny," she teased as they trekked up a steep hill.

"Yeah,well, don't tell anyone else. Don't want the other whelps thinking you're my favorite whelp or something," he said.

"Am I?" She giggled.

"Now who's being purposefully cute?" He joked.

"You didn't answer my question," she teased.

But Skjor wasn't looking at her, he was squinting into the bush ahead of them. He one hand up to silence her, while the other went to the pommel of his sword. Nayna pulled her bow from her back and silently strung an arrow, pointing it in the vague direction of Skjor's gaze.

Nayna heard shuffling from the bush and a bearish grunt. Skjor had unsheathed his sword and was pulling his shield from his back.

"Shoot,now!" he commanded.

She shot blindly, surprised when the bear gave a roar of pain. It immediately launched forward from the bush and jumped, slashing at Skjor. He easily blocked with his shield while whipping his sword around to bite deep into the bear's already injured flank. Nayna strung another arrow and sidestepped, trying to aim for the bear's head or throat. She released and the arrow spun into the bear's knee.She cursed the bow and strung another arrow. The bear had turned to her and was preparing to charge when Skjor thrust his sword into the bears throat. Blood spurted everywhere as it emitted a last gurgle of pain before it was still.

"Nice shooting, whelp," Skjor panted.

"Not my best," Nayna admitted. "I hate to blame the bow, but the sight on this thing fucking sucks. I guess I got lazy with my old bow."

"The thing is dead and you're going to argue with me that you didn't kill it correctly?" Skjor said incredulously.

Nayna lowered her head, feeling the blush curl upwards on her face."Sorry."

"You don't have time to be second guessing yourself. Every moment you do,you're one moment closer to being dead. And a dead Companion is a useless one. Now get your arrows and let's go." He turned and stalked back up the path.

She retrieved her arrows and followed him up the hill. They walked in dour silence for the rest of the trip. Nayna chewed her lip and rubbed her thumb over the coarse wood of the bow as they approached the tower.

"Looks like there are three guarding the walls. You think you can take them out with your bow?" Skjor asked softly.

She nodded but made no move to shoot.

Skjor glared at her. "Stop fucking second guessing yourself and shoot them."

She strung an arrow and crept forward, keeping as silent as possible. Her arm was trembling. She took a deep breath and let the first arrow fly. She didn't even look to see if it hit before stringing another arrow in her bow and shooting the next man. The arrow buried itself deep into the mans throat and he fell backwards off the wall. The last guard, a woman, was aiming her bow at Nayna, but Nayna was too quick and launched an arrow into the woman's eye.

"Let's go look for that 3rd guard," Skjor said and charged forward. Nayna followed with a tight grip on the bow.

They found the man inside the wall, gasping for air. The arrow stuck out from between his armor, having buried itself in the gap between the shoulder and vest, deep in the side of his rib cage. He looked up at Skjor who simply shoved his sword in the man's throat. And then the bandit was no more. Nayna felt a little sick, the same way she'd felt ill after killing Marcurio....That had been what...two, three days ago?

Skjor looked over at her. "Whelp."

"Sorry,"Nayna muttered and moved past the dead bandit and tried to move from Skjor. He caught her arm.

"Don't.You get used to it."

Nayna gazed into his scarred face. She didn't think she'd ever get used to it. Didn't think she wanted to. She could still remember the perverse pleasure she took from slicing the Imperial Captain to ribbons. It scared her to think she would feel that way again.

"Come on," she said, tugging her arm from his grasp. She strapped her bow to her back and unsheathed her knives. He followed her into the tower where they cut down two more bandits.

"We're looking for a steel sword with a jeweled handle. Don't know why you'd whore your sword like that, but," he shrugged. "Battle-borns."

"I hear Eorlund isn't too fond of them," she said as they crept up the tower stairs.

"Gray-manes and Battle-borns have been going at it for years. All over High King Snowberry and his right to rule."

"So I take it the Companions side with the Empire?"

Skjor snorted. "The squabbling of Jarls and Generals aren't our business,whelp. Surprised you haven't asked before."

Nayna shrugged. "I have no real desire to involve myself in the war.There was more than enough warring and squabbling at High Rock over territories and familial lines than I ever cared about. All they're doing is deposing one king in favor for another who will probably enact the same shitty policies as his predecessor."

Skjor smiled down at her. "You speak the truth. It is always the same.Dreamers dream differently and then, the same."

They reached the top of the tower unmolested and found the stupid sword in a chest at the foot of the bed. Skjor was right. It was ugly and vulgar.

"Someone's coming," Skjor said.

"I didn't hear anything,"Nayna said as she strapped the sword to her belt.

"Shhh,"Skjor put a finger to his lips. Nayna waited straining to hear something, anything.

Skjor inched towards the stairs and then leaped forward with a great battle cry that startled Nayna. She heard clanging and clashing of steel and she rushed to the noise.

There were three male orcs, two Nord men and a female Imperial mage. Wonderful, they were outnumbered three to one. More likely though it would be Skjor taking on 5 while she struggled with killing one.

Nayna charged emitting a battle cry of her own that startled one of the Nord men. He stepped back and Nayna took the opportunity to shove him back down the stairs with her foot. He crashed into the woman and took her tumbling with him. She turned to the other Nord and met his steel sword with one of her knives. He slashed and hacked at her, but she met his every move with one of her knives. She whirled in fury and her knife connected with the tender meat of his elbow. He roared and pulled back, just enough for Nayna to swipe the knife in her left hand across his throat, sending him too, down the stairs atop the pile of bodies below.

She turned her attention to one of the orc's attacking Skjor. He was holding his own, that was certain, but she jumped in the fray anyway,not second guessing herself, just acting. She slammed her arm across the shoulders of one orc, taking him by surprise. He reeled back and slammed the handle of his waraxe in her nose. She stumbled as thick blood poured down her face,into her mouth, down her neck and over her armor. He swung his axe at her, but she was faster, ducking and sending her blood flying everywhere.

She cried out in rage, and kicked the orc in the shin, causing him to drop to one knee. She kicked his axe from his hands and viciously brought one of her daggers down into his bare chest. She yanked it back out and the orc slid down the stairs like a snake on a hill.Behind her she heard Skjor laughing and taunting the last orc, having taken down the second one easily.

"Lookout whelp," he called out, almost cheerfully, as the last orc came flying back. He barely missed her as she pressed herself to the wall. Skjor charged down the stairs and easily took down the mage and other Nord.

She stood at the top of the stairs panting when Skjor looked back at her and he laughed.

"You're bleeding pretty profusely there, whelp." He climbed the stairs,pulling out a dirty handkerchief. She took it and wiped her face.

"Ugh,"she said and leaned over to spit out the blood from her mouth.

"Afraid that'll ruin your pretty face?" he teased her gesturing to her nose.

Her heart gave a ridiculous little flutter. Had he just called her pretty? Instead she shrugged. "Meh, can't be any worse than the bruises that other idiot gave me."

She looked at him and nearly gasped. She could see the blood dripping from his shoulder.

"What?"He asked.

"Your....take off your armor!" She said reaching out for him.

He laughed at her. "Now I like a good celebration after a good fight,but I'm not sure Aela would approve."

"Shut up," she said, unbuckling the strap that held the shoulder pauldron to the rest of his armor. "You're bleeding like a stuck...well...a stuck pig."

"It's nothing, whelp. You should heal yourself," he said, trying to shrug her off, but she was busy pressing the already bloodied handkerchief to his shoulder.

"Yeah,whatever," she muttered, pulling her magic from the depths. Her hands glowed with the white healing light and the deep cut in Skjor's shoulder began to mend and heal.

Skjor shook his head. "You Breton-Nords and your magic."

She smiled but punched him in his other arm. 

"What was that for?"

"Because you're an idiot," she teased. "Now," she started tying the pauldron back on Skjor's armor. "We should get this sword back to the Battle-Borns."

It took them two days to get back to Whiterun because Nayna forced Skjor to sleep and rest. The wound may have been healed, but without proper care there was always the chance it would open up again, only worse the next time. He complained at her and called her a hard-ass but she stood firm. The last time she had put her foot down and finally broke down yelling at him. After that Skjor listened to her without much resistance.

They returned the sword to Olfrid, the patriarch of the Battle-born clan and collected their money. Nayna deposited the money and Skjor in his quarters. She bounded up the stairs, looking for Aela or Vilkas, but finding neither. Instead she found Farkas sitting at the table,drinking a tankard of mead.

"Hey sister," he called brightly.

"Hey brother," she smiled and sat next to him.

"Got a job for ya out at Silent Moons Camp."

"Oh gods, it better not be beating someone up," she joked, making Farkas chuckle. She reached for a bowl of soup to ease the pains of hunger in her belly

"No,no, more your line of work. Need you to eliminate the leader of the camp. Bandits."

Nayna's smile faded. Great, now she had a reputation for killing. She put the spoon back into the bowl, no longer hungry.

"Something wrong?" Farkas asked.

Nayna shook her head. "Nope, just give me the details."

She listened to him explain where the camp was, nodding in response to his commentary. Finally, she stood and patted Farkas on the back.

"I'll get to that terrectly, Far. For now, I need to sleep."


	11. Dustmans Cairn

Over the next several months Nayna continued to train and run jobs for the Circle. Many times she ended up being Skjor's shield sister. Those were the jobs she enjoyed the most. Her purse grew heavy with coin.She had no idea what to spend it on, so she saved it...for a rainy day as her mother used to say.

Thinking of her mother caused Nayna to feel a fresh pang of guilt. She had come to Skyrim for her mother, had been there for six months and she still was no closer to Rorikstead than she had been that day in Helgen. She shrugged it off, her mother was probably busy with her other Nord children. Nayna figured coming back into her mother's life would only complicate matters. So Nayna did nothing.

That morning Vilkas sought her out in the hall where she was eating breakfast.

"Nayna,"he called and waved her over.

She rolled her eyes inwardly, but rose and approached. "Yes?"

"Kodlak needs to see you."

"Oh...."Nayna's heart dropped in her stomach and she wrung her hands nervously.

Vilkas sneered at her. "You better go. I'd hate to see Kodlak....angry...."

Nayna looked at him with pained eyes. "O-o-f course. Thanks Vilkas."

She felt his eyes watch her as she disappeared through the doors to the sleeping quarters. As she walked down the long hall towards Kodlak's rooms, she chewed on her lip. She racked her brain for anything she may have done to anger him or the Circle lately. The only thing she could imagine were her snips and digs at Vilkas. Though he gave her plenty of thrashings himself, so she didn't think he would go running with his tail between his legs to Kodlak.

She rose a shaky hand and knocked softly on the door.

"Enter,"Kodlak called.

She pushed the door open to find Kodlak and Skjor looking at her, both smiling.

"Shut the door, whelp," Skjor said.

She turned and closed the door softly, taking a quick moment to inhale and exhale deeply.

"You alright whelp?" Skjor asked and she turned and nodded. Across the room she saw her face in the polished silver mirror that hung upon the wall. Her eyes were as big as saucers and her face was paler than the moons.

"Sit, please," Kodlak gestured to the chair opposite him.

She sat down and perched herself on the edge of the seat. She could hear Skjor chuckling from behind her. His big hands came down on her shoulders and he squeezed.

"Think she's a little nervous," Skjor teased.

"There's nothing to be nervous about. Wine?" He said, attempting to pour her a drink.

She didn't want to be rude, so she accepted the tankard Kodlak handed to her. She could feel Skjor raising his eyebrows behind her.

"Skjor and I think you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Nayna said and pretended to take a sip of the wine, cupping the mug in both hands,trying to hide their trembling.

"Your trial, whelp," Skjor grinned down at her.

"My...trial?" She asked looking back up at him.

"Yes, every new Companion has to go through a trial to prove they're worthy of the honor to be called Companion." Kodlak replied.

"What's my trial?" She asked.

"You know Wuuthrad---Ysgramor's legendary axe. You know we keep the fragments mounted on the wall?" Skjor asked.

Nayna nodded up at him. She placed the mug on the table.

"Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right, the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out. That you seek it out."

Nayna swelled with pride. "I....I would be honored."

"There's a fine line between respect and boot-licking, whelp. But I like your spirit. We've decided this will be your Trial. Do well, and you'll becounted among the Companions." He squeezed her shoulders again."Farkas will be your shield-brother on this venture, whelp. If you have any questions, he'll answer them for you."

Kodlak smiled at her. "Make us proud."

All her nervousness turned into excited energy and she bounced up,embracing Kodlak and then Skjor.

"I won't let you down!" She breathed.

Skjor patted her affectionately on the head. "We know that, whelp. Now go see Farkas."

Nayna practically skipped down the hall and up the stairs. Vilkas was still standing there, arms crossed looking at her sullenly.

"Try not to get Farkas killed."

She gave him her sweetest smile. "Of course not!"

Then she bounded outside and waved to Farkas who laughed at her and waved back.

He stalked over toward the deck. "I hope you've readied yourself."

"I hear you're to be my shield-brother on this venture," she said as he came up to the railing.

He grinned up at her. "So I'm told. Let's see if you impress."

Nayna laughed, drunk on excitement. "Let's go see Eorlund. I need my daggers sharpened and more arrows."

They headed up to the Skyforge, where Eorlund was steadily working, as always. He gave her grief about the daggers and gladly sold her arrows. She left with Farkas, still smiling.

"Why did Skjor call this my Trial? What am I supposed to do besides retrieve the fragment? Or is that all?" Nayna asked. Every Companion had to go through the Trial process to be a fully fledged member, she was well aware of that. She was left wondering about her own.

They passed through the gates.

Farkas chuckled. "I'm supposed to watch you to make sure you are honorable. If so then I can call you sister for real. Just be honorable if there is a fight, don't die and get the fragment."

Nayna nodded eagerly. "Skjor said something about a scholar? Who was he?Where was he from?"

Farkas shrugged. "A smart man."

They walked on in silence, with Nayna checking the map every few moments to make sure she didn't get them lost.

"Not that I'm upset about you accompanying me in the least, but how come Skjor isn't my shield-brother for this?"

Farkas kept walking but cut his eyes to her. "You ask too many questions.Always with the questions. You're starting to sound like Vilkas."

Nayna wrinkled her nose and playfully shoved him. "Be nice!"

He laughed. "I am being nice! I love my brother. He's my favorite person in the world. You happen to remind me of him."

Nayna knew it was the highest compliment Farkas could pay her, but it still sat uneasy with her. She was sure she'd like Vilkas if he wasn't so nasty with her. Sure he was a good teacher, but off the training grounds he was just an ass. Always snide and sarcastic.

"You know," she quipped. "A girl always dreams of being likened to someone's brother."

Farkas elbowed her. "You know what I mean."

Nayna elbowed him back. "Every girls dream."

It took them the better part of the morning to reach Dustman's Cairn.

When they entered the first chamber Farkas looked around, frowning. "Hmm. Looks like someone's been digging here and recently. Tread lightly."

She nodded and a creepy mantle of horror swept over her shoulders. This was too like Bleak Falls Barrow for her liking. She tripped over a dragur while attempting to walk to the table in the middle of the room.

Farkas looked down. "Hmm, dragur."

No kidding, she thought to herself.

"Let's keep moving," Farkas said and gestured her along.

Nayna held her bow steady in one hand and an arrow in the other. She crept down the stairs into the burial chamber.

"Careful around those burial stones. Wouldn't want to have to haul you back to Jorrvaskr on my back." Farkas said.

That made her feel far more confident....not. She nodded again, this time readying her arrow in the bow. Where there were crypts, there were dragur. So it shouldn't have been a surprise when one smiling skeleton ripped from the wall and slashed at her.She shrieked in surprise and stepped back, letting the arrow fly on pure instinct alone. It caught the dragur in the chest, but he kept coming. His axe came inches from her face and she hurled herself back, knocking into the hard wall of muscle that was Farkas. Luckily he kept his cool and jabbed the skeleton in the eye with his greatsword.

"Told ya to be careful." He was smiling down at her, but Nayna wasn't amused in the least. The bouncy excitement had dissipated, replaced with the same anxiety she felt during her quest for the dragonstone and the claw in Bleak Falls.

Inwardly she cursed herself. Great, her first real test to be a Companion and she fucked it up. Badly.

"I shouldn't have....I should have expected that. I froze...." she stammered.

Farkas was still smiling at her. "Ah, it's ok. We all do. That's why we have shield-siblings. We all have our limits. As long as it doesn't keep happening, you're doing just fine."

"Okay,"she said softly and licked her lips. Just add dragur to the long list of nightmares she was constantly battling.

"Lead the way," he said.

In the next chamber they came upon two more dragur, but at least Nayna was ready this time. She shot both of them neatly in the faces. Their decaying bones clattered to the floor making Nayna shiver with dread.She stepped gingerly over them, while Farkas searched for gold.

The third chamber had another three dragur. She put her bow on her backand whipped out her newly sharpened daggers. She whirled and spun,slashing and slicing the dragur as they came up to her. Ducking underone, she grabbed a second by a rotting strap of armor and flung itinto the third. They both rebounded off the floor. Behind her Farkas laughed and said "Nice one!"

She thrust her dagger into the head of the first dragur and then stomped on the second. The third never even moved from where it lay. She stepped back, panting.

"You just gonna watch or are you gonna fight?" She asked sarcastically.

"That's my job. To watch and make sure you fight honorably. Don't worry, I won't let you die without a big fight," he was teasing her. She pursed her lips at him and turned away.

"I hate dragur," she groaned.

"You and me both sister."

She grunted and they moved to the next chamber. In front of her there wasa large staircase that descended into the main part of the room.There was nothing on this level but a stone table. Looking past thestaircase she saw two thrones on a raised dais, little side chamberand a barred hallway. She guess they needed to get past the bars and sighed.

"Wow,"said Farkas looking around.

"What?"

"Old Nord sacrifice place. Be careful around here.....Let's find a way to get those bars open," he said and pointed across the room.

Nayna followed him down the stairs and on to the dais. He was searching the walls for a lever or anything.

"You never answered my question," Nayna said, examining the table.

"You don't give up, do you?" Farkas said.

"Noooo,and you're deflecting."

"Hmm,"Farkas spied a small lever above the bookcase. He was a tall, big man, but it was still out of reach. "Nayna, give me your bow, lemme see if I can pull it."

Nayna obliged and watched as Farkas hooked her bow over the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. She sighed and turned to the adjoining chamber. Inside there was another lever.

"Maybe it's that one," she said. "I'll go check it out."

And just as she wrenched the arm free, another gate dropped in front of the chamber she was in just as the other gate lifted. Her shoulders drooped. This Trial was going just swimmingly.

"Really?"She walked over to the bars. "Help?"

Farkas sauntered over to her and laughed. "Now look what you've gotten yourself into. No worries. Just sit tight." He tapped the bars with her bow. "and I'll find the re---What was that?"

He dropped her bow and drew his sword. She shook her head and started to speak, but several whooping voices overwhelmed her own. Eight men and women approached, weapons drawn,laughing and roaring in glee.

"Well well, look what we've got here. A dog and his bitch," he said to the great amusement of the others.

Nayna slammed herself against the gate. She stuck her arm out, reaching for her bow, but it was too far away. One of the women slapped her arm with the flat of her blade, and Nayna yanked it back through the bars.

They were forming a tight circle around Farkas, closing in on him. He held his greatsword at the ready.

"It's time to die dog," another one said.

"We knew you'd be coming here," interjected one of the women.

"Your mistake, Companion," the first one said as they drew even tighter around Farkas.

Nayna banged her hands against the gate and cried out. "Farkas!"

One of the women mocked her. "Oh Farkas, Farkas! Your bitch is calling. Maybe we should gut her first." She came towards Nayna, who backed away from the bars, pulling out her daggers. She glared at the woman.

"You touch him or me and I'll rip you to shreds," Nayna said in her coldest voice, with a bravado she didn't feel. In truth her legs were like jelly and her stomach was rolling. She wanted to cry and drop to the ground. If only she hadn't been captured. She wouldn't be here now....That fucking asshole....Ulfric....

"Killing you both will make a great story," the woman laughed.

"Too bad none of you will be alive to tell it," Farkas said in his usual calm voice. How he could be so calm, Nayna didn't know.

She crashed against the gate again, watching Farkas in pure terror. He stood just as calmly as he had started but she swore her mind was playing tricks on her in her horror. Farkas was twisting, the sounds of his bones were snapping and crunching. She squinted through the bars. Farkas was growing taller, wider and....hairier? There was fur coming from his ears, his neck, his arms. His armor was melting away, being replaced by brown shaggy fur. He dropped his greatsword and opened his arms wide, claws shooting out of his fingers, a tail sprouting from the back of his armor. Her heart dropped. Werewolf....werewolf....Farkas was a werewolf!

They didn't wait for him to finish transforming before they attacked. But they were no match for Farkas in wolf form. He bit and slashed and clawed all eight of them to death. He turned in slow motion and looked into her eyes and Nayna backed away from the bars again. How could gentle and sweet Farkas be so....monstrous? She gripped the daggers tight in her hands, suddenly glad for the bars that separated them. If she stayed far enough back he couldn't reach her. But then she couldn't reach him either. A stalemate that would end in starvation on her side.

Farkas the wolf turned and crept out of the room. After she put her daggers away she leaned against the wall, shaking, burying her face in her hands. She heard a grinding noise and then a clang, and felt the sudden rush of air as the gate opened. Fear gripped her, but she was rooted to the wall. There were human footsteps walking across the chamber. She should have gotten her daggers out and ran at him, killed him and left. Instead she just stood there,hands on her knees, looking at his boots. She saw him pick up his greatsword and heard him heave a heavy sigh.

"I hope I didn't scare ya," he said, the same gentle tone she'd come to know over the last six months.

"Do you mind telling me what the flying fuckity fuck that was?" She panted, still half afraid.

"We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome," Farkas said. Nayna's head shot up and she squinted at him. He started walking to her and she instinctively backed up. Farkas stopped, a hurt look on his face.

She closed her eyes. "Sorry. I just...you scared the living shit out of me. Werewolves aren't.....they don't think, they just kill....I thought those....they were going to kill me and then you changed and then I thought you were going to maul me to death too."

"Hey," he said and she opened her eyes. He reached over and stroked her cheek. "I don't think much either.But I would never hurt you."

She busted out laughing, half hysterically. "You're smarter than you know Farkas."

"If I don't know I'm smart, how does that make me smart?"

"I....can't even explain it,"she said letting out a long shaky breath. He had turned and picked her bow up. He held it out to her. She stared into his blue eyes. He was still the same gentle and sweet-hearted Farkas she'd come to know six months past. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and squeezed. He smiled at her and she smiled back and took her bow.

"Thanks....Who were those people?"

"The Silver Hand."

"Who....?"

"Bad people who don't like werewolves. They hunt us, we hunt them...."

She nodded slowly and moved out of the anteroom to stop beside the bodies all haphazardly piled on top of each other.

She gazed down at them. "They thought I was one too...."

"Yeah,well you're with me, so...." Farkas shrugged and stepped over them.

They started walking towards the other hall when suddenly it occurred to Nayna to ask "Wait...does this mean you're going to make me a werewolf too?"

Farkas shook his head. "Oh no. Don't worry, only the Circle have the beastblood......We should keep moving. Keep your eyes on the prey,not the horizon."

"Wait,"Nayna said and Farkas stopped to look at her.

"Everyone in the Circle is....?"

"Yeah."

"Even Skjor?"

"Yep. It's a secret to everyone not in the Circle." Farkas was ever patient with her.

She didn't know what to think. When she thought about Skjor she felt betrayed. But then she realized he couldn't have told her and if he had what would she have thought of him then? She knew he and Aela liked to hunt....

Farkas strode ahead, his sword at the ready. She followed him to the next room where they came across four Silver Hand and two dragur. Farkas no longer held back watching her. He jumped right into battle, hacking away at the nearest Orc. She aimed an arrow at one of the dragur and took him out before he could stab Farkas. One by one they took out the remaining Silver Hand. The other dragur had died from a stray blow from one of the Silver Hand. Nayna was slightly relieved.

"Farkas,"she caught his arm.

"Hmm?"

"Slow down. I don't want you to get hurt."

"No time. If there is a fragment of Wuuthrad there we have to get it before they do."

"You're right. I've got your back."

Farkas grinned down at her. "I know. I trust you."

She swallowed hard, thinking to herself, you probably shouldn't. She hoped she didn't let him or Skjor down. She was anxious to get the Trial over and done with, to make them proud.

Farkas rushed ahead and Nayna had to run to catch up with him. When she did, she saw him frozen to the ground looking up. Frostbite spiders. Six of them. Amazing.

She pulled out her bow and shot the nearest one. They all leaped into action, legs dancing and jerking. She dropped the bow and yanked out her knives and raced ahead of Farkas to take out the others. Two rushed past her to Farkas, but she concentrated on the ones ahead of her. They spat out green globs of venom that she had to duck and dodge. One lunged for her with it'd giant fangs but she dove under it, slicing off two of its legs in the process. The thing crashed to the ground and she stabbed it, before turning her attention back to the others. She cut them down as swiftly as she could. only taking minor wounds to her arm. But she'd see to them later.

Nayna turned to Farkas and her heart stopped. He was laying on his back and the two spiders were wrapping him in their silky web, feet first. 

"No!" She cried, startling them from their work. She ran to them, kicking one while sending her knife sailing into the body of the other. She stabbed the one closest to her in its many horrible eyes. It fell to the ground twitching and then it was no more.

"Farkas," she sobbed. He wasn't moving, barely breathing. His eyes were open and following her, but he hadn't turned his head. He was paralyzed by the venom. She crept closer to him and saw he had a large bite on his neck that was slowly dripping blood.

"Oh gods," she said softly and opened her satchel. She found a cloth and pressed it to his neck. She racked her brain trying to remember how to heal him with the poison inside of him. Even if she healed the wounds, the poison would still be in his system. She could try to drain the wound, but then she risked having him bleed out. She could try to wait it out and hope it wasn't enough to kill him and it didn't reach his heart.

She cursed herself for not having an antidote. The next best thing she had was a cure disease potion, so she tipped it in his mouth and rubbed his throat so he would swallow it. Then she gave him a healing potion the same way.

She slipped her fingers into his and said softly, "I'm here. We're going to give it a few minutes and see if the poison wears off, ok? If you can move your hands just squeeze mine ok?"

She realized he couldn't answer, so she reached up and brushed his dark hair from his face. He was still watching her with his blue eyes. She bit her lips trying not to panic, not to cry.

She was internally kicking herself. She had been careless. Her inattention to Farkas would probably cost him his life. She didn't want to have to go back to the Companions and say it was her fault, that she killed him.

After what felt like hours she felt a tug on her hand and saw his fingers twitching back to life. Relief flooded over her as he slowly was able to move. Nayna helped him sit up slowly.

"My feet," he groaned. She looked down and saw the spiders silk still wrapped around his ankles.

She cut it away with a trembling hand. He caught her arm, jerkily in his hand.

"Hey," his deep voice was slower than normal. "It's ok. I'm fine."

Nayna nodded and brushed a tear from her cheek. "You scared me."

He smiled. "More than when I turned into the wolf?"

"Aye!" She launched forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wasn't normally an affectionate person. She rarely even let Skjor touch her.

He clumsily patter her cheek. "We should get going."

"No," she said and sat back. "We're resting. You're resting."

"The fragment."

She shook her head viciously. "If they take it, they take it. We'll track them down. If they are after it they're already there by now and we'd have to fight them. You're in no condition to fight them and I wouldn't be able to protect you. I couldn't even protect you...."

"Hey, you did. You were here. You killed them. It happens."

Nayna laughed bitterly. "I've....nevermind. Here, drink another."

She reached into her bag and handed him the healing potion she pulled out. He obliged, watching her the whole time, but she looked away ashamed. She would get him back to Jorrvaskr and then find her own way again. It hurt, but she knew she wasn't fit to be a Companion. This stuff happened every time she was on a job with someone, even Skjor. She was weak and hesitant. Farkas was looking at her funny, but she turned and pretended to reorganize her pack.

"Hey," he said. She ignored him. "Nay, I'm ok. I feel much better."

His voice sounded stronger and when she sneaked a glance at him, she saw his color was returning.

"Are you sure? We can take a bit more time...."

He pushed himself up. "I'm fine. Let's keep moving." He offered her his hand, which she took.

By the time they found the main burial chamber her bones positively ached with exhaustion and she was heartsick. She didn't think she had the stomach to fight another thing.

"There,on that table. You should be the one to grab it. It is your Trial after all."

But Nayna wasn't listening. She saw the runes on the wall behind the table. They were glowing and dancing, beckoning to her. That same jumpy feeling of power overwhelmed her and she knew she had to touch the wall. Her heart was skipping every other beat. The closer she gotto them, the brighter they were. Instead of blue, they were orange. If the other words had been frosty, these were hot to the touch, to the core. Her palm was burning where she touched the wall, but she couldn't remove it. She felt the flames coming to meet her heart,licking up her arm. Her whole body was soon set aflame. And as soon as it had began, it was over and she stumbled back from the wall, gasping. Farkas caught her and righted her, keeping one big hand on her waist.

"Are you okay Nay? I was talking to ya and you were just...out of it....And then your eyes...." Farkas said, his own eyes were wide and filled with fear. She realized she was looking at her own face reflected in his. She reached up and patted his cheek.

"I'm ok...it's...I don't know what it is...There was something in Bleak Falls Barrow.....just like this and...I felt like this when that dragon died...."

Farkas tilted his head at her. "Maybe you should go see the greybeards."

She winced. Kodlak and the Jarl had been telling her it was time for months, but she had never felt a sense of urgency. She shrugged and pushed away from Farkas. "Yeah. Maybe."

"I'm serious Nay...." He started, but Nayna had turned her attention to the fragment on the table. She reached into her bag and pulled out apiece of soft cloth, which she spread on the table and then wrapped the cloth gently around the piece of Wuuthrad. She wasn't going to let anything jeopardize the fragment. Not after everything that happened. She stuffed it in her bag and nodded at Farkas.

Just as she had finished putting it away, three dragur popped out of the sarcophagi lining the room. She yanked out her knives and went tomeet the first one, slicing it's neck with one and ramming the otherinto its skull. Farkas had easily dispatched the other two in the meantime.

"That makes.....7," he said grinning easily at her.

"I have 6," she said and stuck out her tongue.

"I---"Farkas was cut off by the appearance of two more.

After those two the waves of dragur just kept coming and coming. Nayna's arms screamed in protest, but she kept ducking, dodging, stabbing and slashing. She was faster, much faster than the slow, dead dragur. But there were so many of them.....

"We have to get out of here," Nayna shouted over the clanging.

Farkas grunted. "We don't run from battle."

Nayna shoved the knife into another dragur. "There's no honor dying like this! Damnit, there is no dishonor is retreating—live to fight another day!"

Farkas growled and thrust his sword through two dragur. She was looking for an exit when she noticed the tomb in front of the table was opening. She grabbed Farkas's arm just as a Deathlord emerged.

"Shor's beard," Farkas said conversationally. Nayna grabbed her bow and released an arrow in its thigh, but it kept moving towards them.

It drew in a deep breath and shouted. She felt the force of the shout trying to knock her off her feet. She managed to stand her ground, but Farkas had been flung backwards into several more oncoming dragur. She whirled to shoot some of the dragur he landed on, and felt a crack on the back of her head.

She hit the ground hard, with the world spinning. Her bow was knocked off the dais an on to the floor below her. She dragged herself away from the thing reaching for her bow. Her fingers had barely scraped it when the dragur brought his hammer down on her side. She tried to cry out as sharp pains shot up her ribs, but she couldn't catch her breath. Her fingers wrapped around her bow and she forced herself to roll over. The warhammer was raised again for the final blow. It arced slowly down at her and she lifted her bow to block.

The handle of the hammer caught on the bow, sending shock waves through her arms. It was enough to catch the dragur off guard and she hurled the bow and hammer to the side with all her might. She heard a snap! and realized that her bow was done for. She yanked her knives out and summoned all she could to drag herself back on her feet. The room wasn't spinning quite so much anymore, but she wasn't steady on her feet. She used the momentum to launch herself forward, tackling the dragur.

"Argggh,"she screamed driving the dagger in his skull again and again and again, taking out all her fear, anger and frustration on the thing until Farkas was pulling her up and holding firmly onto her wrist.

"Let go," he said gently.

She was panting, looking wild eyed at him.

"Nay, let go."

She opened her hand and the knife clattered to the floor. Farkas released her and bent to retrieve it. She reeled back and he grabbed her again.

"You killed that thing. Made the rest of them drop dead as soon as you did."

"Aye," she panted, hand on her side where the hammer hit.

"Do you still have it?"

She was momentarily confused. "Have what?"

"The fragment."

"Oh...My bag..."

She pointed to where her satchel was and Farkas sat her gently on the stairs. He jogged over to the bag and pulled out the cloth. "This it?"

"Aye,"she gasped, putting more pressure on the pain. When she removed her hand there was no blood and she was relieved.

"Good. Let's get the hell out of here before any more of those assholes come back—Silver Hand or dragur. You can heal yourself when we get to Jorrvaskr. It's not too far."

He helped her climb the stairs and into a door that led back to the first chamber. When they left Dustman's Cairn it was night. She had never been so glad to feel the cool night air blowing on her face. She was still woozy, but at least she didn't feel like falling every time she stood.

It was a very long and painful walk back to Jorrvaskr, but Farkas insisted they move on quickly, for fear the Silver Hand were following them. She leaned rather heavily on him for the walk. His usual laid back temperament was replaced with a harried urgency, but he was as tender as ever, letting her stop occasionally to rest. 

He helped her inside the empty mead hall and sat her down in a chair."Go to town, girl."

"Girl?"She raised her eyebrow. "How old are you to be calling me girl?"

Farkas grinned down at her. "Thirty-two. So I'm older than you, girl."

She laughed and then gripped her side. "Ugh."

"Heal yourself," Farkas insisted.

She nodded and pulled up her magic. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the healing spell began working. The pain slowly abated and she was no longer feeling sick.

"Okay,"she breathed. "That's so much better."

"Wait here, I need to talk to the rest of the Circle," he patted her on the back and started downstairs.

"Farkas,"she called.

"Yes?" His black haired head popped over the railing, making her giggle.

"The shard?" She said pulling it out of her bag.

"Heh, yeah, that's important. Thanks Nay."

"Farkas....Thank you...I'm glad it was you with me today."

His grin brightened. "Me too." And he finally disappeared into the sleeping quarters.

She sat in nervous silence, staring into the fire. Werewolves....What was she getting herself into...Did she really want to be part of this? She remembered the blood under Skjor's nails and Aela's grin anytime they mentioned hunting. What did they hunt? People? Animals?

The beastblood, Farkas had called it. She was pulled back in time to the conversation between Kodlak and Vilkas when she first came to Jorrvaskr....The call of the beastblood, Vilkas had said. Maybe that's why he was so testy all the time. Poor Vilkas....Aela and Skjor loved it....Vilkas and Kodlak struggled. The only one untouched was Farkas. But then, Farkas was easy-going. He was simple.She liked that about him.

She heard voices and footsteps on the stairs, but she kept looking at the fire, unsure of what to do, what she desired. She'd come to think of them as family over the last six months. They had taken her in with almost no questions asked. Even Vilkas had grudgingly accepted her.

She glanced back over her shoulder as Aela, Skjor, Farkas and then Kodlak filed out to the training yard. Skjor was smiling at her, but she merely looked at him with a blank expression on her face making his grin falter. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned to find Vilkas stand over her shoulder.

"Hi,"she said.

"Heil,"he said.

"Will you sit with me?" She asked softly.

He drew out the chair and sat down.

"I'm sorry," she said, tracing her fingertips over the grain of the wood on the table.

"For what?" he asked suspiciously.

"For goading you into arguments."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I should say the same to you."

Nayna shook her head, tapping on the table. "No, it wasn't my place."

"My brother said he had to change in front of you...."

Nayna nodded. "Yeah. If he hadn't we wouldn't be here talking now."

"It's...."Vilkas grunted and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "It was a boon at first but...we were tricked...It's difficult to bear at times."

"I understand," she said but Vilkas shook his head and said softly, "You don't. You can't. And hopefully you never will."

The back door opened and Farkas stuck his head out. "Hey! Are you two coming?"

"In a minute brother," Vilkas called. Farkas bobbed his head up and down and closed the door.

"Are you coming out there?" Vilkas asked. "We're going to initiate you...."

"I hadn't decided until just now."

He only looked at her with raised eyebrows. She could use logic to talk herself out of it. Or she could do what brought her to Skyrim in the first place. She could follow her heart.

"I'd be honored to be called sister by all of you."

Vilkas stood up. "Don't think I'll go any easier on you."

"Don't think I will either," she joked, taking the hand he offered.

She followed him outside where Farkas, Skjor, Aela and Kodlak were all gathered in a semi circle. Vilkas nudged her to the center and took his place. She looked between all the faces she'd come to know and love over the last six months. Knowing what she knew now about their hidden powers didn't make the love any less. She would never be able to walk away from them again. Not with a clean soul and a full heart.Her eyes met Skjor's troubled gaze and she smiled softly at him,reassuring him that she was ok. His features softened and she looked to Kodlak who was smiling proudly down at her.

Kodlak looked up and around the Circle. "Brothers and Sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal hold. This woman has endured, has challenged and has showed her valor. Who will speak for her?"

Farkas stepped forward. "I stand witness for the courage of the soul before us."

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" asked Kodlak.

Farkas nodded. "I would stand at her back, that the world might neverovertake us."

"And would you raise your sword in her honor?"

 

"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes."

"And would you raise a mug in her name?"

"I would lead the song in triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories."

"Then this judgment of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distance green summers. Let it beat with ours, so the mountains mayecho and our enemies may tremble at the call." Kodlak said,beaming down at her. She swelled with pride, glad it was dark, lest the others see the tears in her eyes.

Together the Circle said, "It shall be so."


	12. The Criminal

"Waaaaaakeup, whelp of sunshine," Skjor crooned as he yanked the blankets off her. "We've got work to do."

"Ugh,"she rolled over and placed the pillow over her head. "I can't hear you. I'm busy."

"Don't make me steal your pillow too. You might not get them back," Skjor said, tugging on the pillow.

"Come oooon," she moaned. "I just spent four days tracking down a criminal for the Jarl. Can't a girl get any rest?"

"Not today whelp, not today!" Skjor said. "If you aren't up in exactly two minutes, I'm coming back and tickling your feet."

"I will cut you," Nayna moaned from her pillow.

Skjor just laughed and left.

When he came back she was slowly pulling her boots on, grumbling.

"That criminal you brought in? She escaped."

Nayna's head shot up. "Are you fucking joking?"

"Nope.You and I are going to go hunt her down. At this point Balgruuf doesn't care if she lives or dies, so we're going to exterminate the little problem."

"Fucking hell," Nayna muttered as she stood in front of the polished mirror.

"Mmmhmm,"Skjor said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door frame.

She viciously yanked the strands of her hair out of her usual braid and combed through them.

"Careful there whelp, you're likely to make yourself bald."

Nayna turned to glare at him through her hair, making Skjor snicker.

"Whelp,why are you so cranky today?"

She sighed. "You woke me up out of a dead sleep. I haven't sleep well in five days. Seems like all of you are constantly waking me up."

"So whiny. Uh-oh, it's a ponytail day, is it?"

She ignored him and finished tying her hair back. "Alright, alright,let me get some food first."

She brushed past Skjor towards the hallway, his touch making her heart flutter, where she almost ran into Farkas.

"Whoops,"he laughed, catching her by the shoulders. She felt a little irritated but then Farkas smiled at her, making it hard to stay mad at him.

"Watch where you're going," she said and smacked his chest playfully.

"You watch it sister. Hey I have a job for you..."

"Oh I'm actually doing something for Skjor," she said and motioned back to Skjor.

Farkas looked...disappointed. "Alright, well if you need more work come see me."

"Will do," she said and stepped through the doors to the hall. Skjor followed closely behind her. He stole a piece of bread from Aela's plate and tossed it to Nayna. She grimaced in apology, but Aela just rolled her eyes.

"Eat on the way whelp, no time to lose. Should be back in time for hunting," he said, looking fondly down at Aela.

She returned the look with a hint of a smile. "See you then."

She followed Skjor out of Jorrvaskr and down the steps to the Wind District.

"How's the new bow, whelp?"

She grunted. "It's not my old one. Fucking Ulfric Stormcloak."

"One of these days whelp that's gonna come back and bite you in the ass. It's best to forget about it now."

She shrugged. "Yeah. It belonged---"

"--to your mother, I know."

She shook her head. "It's more than that. My mother and her mother carved the wood themselves. They blessed it and gave it to my mother's father to take with him in the Great War."

Skjor raised his eyebrow at her as they passed the shops. "Your grandfather fought in the Great War?"

"Yeah,so did my father. That's how he came to meet my mother. He was passing through Solitude—that's where they lived before I was born—and he met my mother and well...Anyway, yeah my grandfather used that bow. It saved his life many times, according to my mother....When he was killed, they sent his body to my mother in Rorikstead. By that time she was already pregnant with me and her own mother had recently died."

"What was his name, whelp?"

"Hundr."

Skjor stopped just at the gate and tilted his head curiously. "Hundr the Greatheart?"

"Yeah. Did you know him?"

Skjor laughed. "Not personally but he was one hell of a fighter. Now I see where you get your spirit from, whelp."

"How are we supposed to track her anyway?" Nayna asked, trying to move the topic from her family as they left Whiterun.

"Smell,"Skjor said simply and Nayna felt uncomfortable. She shifted and Skjor touched her shoulder.

"You ok?"

"Aye..."

They walked on in silence.

Finally Nayna couldn't hold it back any longer. "What's it like?"

Skjor stopped and looked at her. "A sensitive question, whelp. You might want to be more...discreet. It's a blessing given to us by Hircine."

"Hircine?"

"The daedric god of hunting."

"Oh..."

"Who cares about thoughts of the afterlife when you can tear apart your foes right here, right now?" Skjor grinned a terrible wolfish grin and Nayna stepped back.

"Once you have it...you'll understand." He said. His face relaxed and he looked gently down at her.

"Once?Not if?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Come on, whelp. You're supposed to be smart. Yes, once you join the Circle."

"Me?In the Circle?" She stopped and Skjor turned to her.

"Yeah,whelp. Why do you think I insist you train so hard? Why do you think I've taken you under my....paw?"

"But Ria and Njada....they've been here for years...."

"Well,I'm not asking you to join the Circle now, whelp. And both of them are great warriors, but they wouldn't fit with the Circle as is."

"And I would?"

"Aye."He sighed. "You're asking far too many questions."

"How can I learn if I don't ask?"

"Smartass.Kodlak and I agree, you have the wit of Vilkas, the kind heart of Farkas, the determination of Aela. You embody what the Companions used to stand for. You not only strive to protect our land and those who live here, but you strive for more. You see both parts of a whole, and that's rare. We need that."

Nayna felt her face turn red hot. "I...don't know what to say....I don't....I think you're mistaken."

Skjor sighed. "And this is why I'm not asking you to join the Circle now.I need to stamp out that second guessing, that self-consciousness from you. Let's keep moving."

She followed him around Silent Moons Camp, still silent since she had wiped out the bandit coven a few months ago.

Skjor stopped, turning his face in the direction of the wind. "Smells like she is heading towards Morthal."

"Wonderful,"Nayna said sarcastically.

They spent most of the day tracking the scent of the woman—well Skjor tracked her scent while Nayna followed. She was having one of those rare blissful times when her mind was completely quiet, the inner monologue switched off. She appreciated the plains of Whiterun more when she didn't think.

"So,whelp," Skjor began. Nayna sighed. "When are you going to High Hrothgar?"

"You're starting to sound like Kodlak and Balgruuf," she pointed out.

"Well, don't you think it's important?"

She lifted her shoulders and gingerly stepped over a dead elk.

Skjor side-eyed her. "Whelp. I've seen you in battle. You're a fierce and competent fighter, you meet all foes head on. And yet, when it comes time for you to act, you run in the other direction."

She pursed her lips but walked on, saying nothing.

"It's easy to get lost in battle rage. I understand that. But you can't keep running forever. One day you'll have to face your fears because there will be nowhere to run."

"I don't run away," she muttered.

Skjor raised his eyebrows. "Really? Why are you in Skyrim? And don't give me the bullshit about finding your mother. It's been a year whelp. A year and you are no closer to her now than when you walked into Skyrim."

She looked down at her boots as they crunched through the powdery snow.

"Why?"Skjor asked, catching her arm to stop her.

"Because I didn't want to get married. Because I couldn't stand living in that gods forsaken castle anymore watching my brothers and sisters get fawned over by their mother while I was always left to the dregs.Because the man my father and stepmonster wanted me to marry is a horrible, cruel man and if I hadn't left I would be dead by his hand.That's why I left. So yeah," she laughed bitterly and yanked her arm from his grasp. "I ran the fuck away."

"Retreating isn't cowardice." Skjor pointed out. She looked at him and nodded.She'd said the same to Farkas at Dustman's Cairn. "Continuing to run from your responsibilities is though."

"I am not a coward. I have never run from a fight."

"Fighting others is easy, whelp. Fighting yourself isn't. This is also another reason why we're not rushing to put you in the Circle. You still have a lot of learning and growing up to do. But you're young and you'll get there, whelp. I have faith in you." He clapped her on the back,much like he would for Farkas or Vilkas.

"Come on, we're getting close," he said. "See that cabin up ahead?Think she's holed up in there. Nice and easy whelp."

They crept alongside the path, under the cover of brush, towards the cabin. She pulled an arrow at the ready, while Skjor quietly unsheathed his sword.

"Wait here, I'm going to scout around the side," he whispered.

"Are you sure I shou--"

"--just wait, whelp. I'll be but a moment."

She sighed and leaned back on her heels, cooling her haunches. Skjor crept around the side of the house and disappeared. Nayna lowered her bow and slid the arrow back into the quiver at her belt. Now all she had to do was sit and wait. Hopefully they could catch the stupid bitch unawares and be done with it.

She felt the sword before she saw it, pushing through her armor and between her ribs. She gasped as the blade buried itself in her side.She stumbled and fell backwards.. Suddenly she felt cold. Death was cold. Sovngarde....was cold. Her last thoughts were of Skjor as the world went black. Nayna never saw her attacker.

 

She was dreaming again. This time it was Helgen and it was the same red dragon, landing on the tower. Only this time it was aiming for her.And she burned. And burned and burned. Her flesh melted away, leaving only her bones screaming for help. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak looked ather with his sad, sad eyes, shaking his head and turning away from her. Ralof looked away, ashamed as if he were seeing her nakedness. And then there was Skjor, reaching for her, reassuring her as long as he held her, she'd be alright. As long as he was alive, he would protect her and the dragon wouldn't consume her. She grabbed his hand and he began to roar in pain as the flesh melted from his body. She tried to let go, but her hand was melded to his and he crumbled to ash in her hands. She began to scream.

She was screaming and she was on fire, writhing on the ground in pain.Her eyes were open, barely slits and she saw Skjor's face looming above hers. She remembered thinking, how strange, you're dead before the darkness consumed her again.

The next dream she stood on the throat of the world, staring at a dragon,different than the one at Helgen. Her weapons were sheathed and her arms were crossed as if she was having a mild conversation. The dragon was old and weathered, scales loose, wings ripped. He looked tired but cunning. She looked around taking in the snowy scenery. No birds perched on the mountainside, no rams, nothing but her and the dragon. The wind blew her hair to the side and she shivered.

She was cold, as if she had been plunged into ice. Her teeth clacked together and her whole body was seized with tremors. The pain.....oh the pain...

A distant, distorted voice kept yelling at her. "Hold on, whelp."

But only Skjor was allowed to call her whelp....And Skjor had burned in the hellfires of the dragon.

In the third dream she was sitting on a bed in a familiar place that had a sense of strangeness to it. In her hands was a fragment of Wuuthrad, much like the one she retrieved from Dustman's Cairn. She turned it over and over in her hands, the light shining and bouncing off the surface of the shard. Her heart felt numb. She felt nothingbut the sharp point of the fragment in her fingertips. She took itand pressed it to her side, digging in and she cried out.

A sharp, biting pain rose through her ribcage and she shot up, slapping the hand away from her side. She looked wildly around, finding herself in a strange bed, nearly naked with a man whom she'd never seen before in front of her. He backed up raising his hands.

"Not here to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Who are you?" She croaked, her throat, so dry. The man pointed to a pitcher of water, which she gratefully poured herself a glass and gulped it down.

"I'm a healer," he said simply. "I was passing by and there was so much blood...."

"My friend? He's dead?" Her voice cracked but not because she was parched.

The man shook his head viciously. "No, he went to hunt down supplies for me. And um...new...clothes...."

She flushed and pulled the blankets close to her chest. He looked away.

"Um,I take it, you're....healed?"

Nayna nodded. "More or less...." She peeked under the blankets. The wound was a simple angry red slash across her side. It would heal on its own in a few days and it would leave a vicious scar. She wrapped the blankets around her and sat at the table.

The man brought her soup and bread and she ate like she hadn't eaten a few hours before.

As she was finishing her soup the door to the cabin opened and a very pale Skjor walked in. She saw the alarm on his face when he saw the empty bed, so she called out his name, "Skjor!"

"Whelp!"He turned, dropping the bottles and clothing he carried. She stood up and he crushed her to his chest.

Nayna wasn't one for physical affection, but this time she let her arms slid around his neck and the blankets pooled around her feet.

"Whoops,"Skjor laughed, a little awkwardly.

"My armor...." she said sadly. "I helped make it..."

"It did its job whelp. In the meantime, I brought you some new clothes."He patted her shoulder and bent over, picking up the dress he'd acquired. She held it up and curled her lip.

"Just wear it whelp. We can get you new armor later."

The dress was far too big on her and she had to roll the skirt up so it didn't drag on the ground. Skjor was grinning stupidly at her.

"Stop laughing!"

"You look ridiculous, whelp." His smile was big and affectionate. She was seeing a completely different side to Skjor. She wondered if Aela saw this.

They thanked the man and Skjor left him gold, even though he insisted they didn't need to pay him. Skjor merely dropped the money on the table and grasped Nayna's elbow, escorting her out.

"My weapons...."

"Don't worry about them, Whelp. We'll get you new ones. Come..."

"What happened to--"

"--she's dead," Skjor said tersely.

"Good."Nayna panted.

Skjor stopped and looked at her. She was quite out of breath.

It hit her suddenly, the realization that she had sat on death's door.Nayna sat down on a rock, trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself. She had come so close to dying....She couldn't hold back.She looked up at Skjor with tears rolling down her face.

"I love you." She said in a small voice.

Skjor looked down at his boot and sighed. "I know that, whelp. I know you'd follow me into the depths of Oblivion if I asked. But whelp...."

"No,no." She sniffed and wiped her face. "I know how much Aela means to you. I'm not trying to....I just needed to tell you. I love you and I want to keep loving you, but not like this."

He didn't say anything, only sat next to her.

She smiled and hiccuped. He reached over and gently brushed a few tears from her face.

"Whatever it is, I don't want to lose you, Nayna," Skjor said softly.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder and he put his arm around her.

"Me either."

They sat on the rock, watching the sunset in silence. She could hear nothing aside from the in and out of Skjor's breath. The day had been warm, but the night was dawning chilly. His arm provided her the warmth she needed.

She looked over to find him gazing down at her. Skjor reached over and cupped her face gingerly, she looked into his eyes with her own trusting eyes and he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. Her heart beat began to beat erratically and as if he sensed it, his kiss deepened.

She froze for a moment and then relaxed into his kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed and she kissed back. How long they sat there kissing, she would never know. But for her, it was a perfect moment. His mouth was warm and soft, his caressing hands were more gentle than she ever imagined.

She was the one to break the kiss first. She pulled from his hand, from his arm and stood up.

"Enough,"she said softly and looked down at him. "It's enough."

His hand caught her wrist and his thumb stroked small circles as he looked into her eyes. Finally he nodded and let her go.

They walked the rest of the way home to Jorrvaskr, each keeping to their own thoughts. By the time they reached the hall a new day was dawning. She climbed into her bed, alone, and cried herself to sleep for the first time in a year.


	13. Ustengrav

"Where the hell have you been?"

Nayna looked up from her cabbage soup to find a very red-faced Skjor standing over her. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and shrugged.

"I went to High Hrothgar."

"Thank you for telling me now," Skjor said sarcastically.

Her brows knitted together as she put the spoon in her mouth, slurping the soup. Luckily,the hour was late and only she and Skjor remained in the hall.

"You were gone for nearly a month with no word otherwise. Do you realize how that feels? I thought....I thought you were dead, Nayna."

She sighed and put the spoon down. "I needed space."

"Yeah, right."Skjor said and he kicked the chair beside her from under the table. He sat down and began roughly loading his plate with food.

"Look Skjor,"Nayna said, leaning back in her chair, watching the fire flicker over his scarred face. "You have been everywhere. You stopped taking jobs and you started following me around, like....like a puppy....or...something. I couldn't stand that for another minute.Being around you.....and being around....Aela. Do you know how painful that is for me?"

"Did you know how painful it was for me when I woke up and found you missing? And when you didn't return for a month?"

"I left a note on my pillow," she said and took another sip of soup.

Skjor's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Yeah, I know—please don't follow me.I'm fine."

Nayna shrugged and grabbed a piece of bread. "And I was. And I am."

"What if something had happened to you on the way to High Hrothgar?"

"I took my housecarl," Nayna replied.

Skjor said nothing, only glared at her.

"What do you want from me?" She asked frankly. "Every time I see you....when I look at you....when I'm near you....my heart breaks.Over and over and over. So I left to heal my heart."

"And is it healed?" Skjor snapped.

She looked at him with big solemn eyes. "It broke again the moment I saw you."

His face softened and he reached out to touch her but she slapped his hand away.

"You're only making this harder on me....You are so selfish Skjor....I learned something when I was at High Hrothgar. I realized that even though I love you.....I can't let you walk all over me. I can't let you take advantage of me—whether you mean to or not. I love you, Ilove our trips together, I love it when you're my shield-brother.There is no one else I'd rather have at my side. I will always be your whelp, but I deserve to be more than just your whelp, whether it's your lover or your friend....And Aela deserves better. She either needs you to completely be her man or for you to release her to find herself a man who will value her for her own self."

She tossed the crust of bread back on to her plate. Skjor squared his jaw, chewing on her words as he stared into the fire.

"I almost died. That was the closest I ever came to death, including my little trip to the chopping block in Helgen. That and my quiet time at High Hrothgar made me realize....I love you and...I know what I want. I thought I wanted you as my man. But I want you as a whole,not a part. And even if you parted ways with Aela, there would always be that doubt. And then there would always be the age difference. We wouldn't make it a month together. And that's okay. I'm okay with that. You need to be okay with this too Skjor....you are...." She smiled softly. "You are my very best friend in the whole world and I want to stay close with you."

This time it was Nayna who smoothed her hand down Skjor's cheek. His eye flicked up to her and then back to the fire. A ragged breath escaped his lips and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're right whelp. You look like shit. You should go sleep."

She nodded. "And to let you know, I have a mission to accomplish for the Greybeards. They're sending me to Ustengrav to retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller."

"An important mission....Who are you taking?"

"Lydia."

"You should take a Companion...."

"Lydia is more than capable of helping me and I can handle myself."

"I would feel better if you did...."

"I'll take Farkas then," she said. "Goodnight Skjor."

"Goodnight Nayna," he sighed and turned back to the fire.

She knew he wanted to go, but she couldn't take him. Not just yet. If she ever wanted to fully heal herself, she would have to distance herself for longer than a month.

 

The next morning Nayna knocked on Farkas's door. Behind the the door he grunted and she heard him bustling around the chamber. After a long while he opened the door, dressed only in a pair of trousers, and she was instantly drawn to his bare chest and the thick black hair running down his belly. She had the urge to run her fingers through it. A blush crept up on her cheeks and she looked up into his sleepy face.

"Did I wake you?"

"Yeah,that's okay though," he said, dragging his hand through his long black hair. His grin shined down on her, making her heart flutter,just a tiny bit."I missed you."

"I missed you too." Her cheeks were only getting redder. She cleared her throat. "Have a little errand to run and I need a shield-brother." His eyes lit up, making her smile bigger. It was so easy to please Farkas, and she enjoyed that.

"Come in," he said, pulling the door open.

She ducked in under his arm and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. His room smelled of leather, mead and surprisingly, soap. He gestured to the rumpled bed and she sat gingerly on the edge. The room was quite messy, but it felt homey nonetheless. There was candle wax stuck to the bar, half-drunken bottles of mead on the table and the bar, some clothes strewn on the floor and a few books piled haphazardly near the dried candle wax. He jaunted over to the chest at the other end of the room. The muscles on his broad back rippled as he rummaged for a shirt.

"Where are we going?"

"What?"she gasped, broken out of her revere.

Farkas grinned over his shoulder at her. "I said, where are we headed?"

She giggled stupidly. "Only you would say yes without knowing the errand."

"Who said I said yes?" He pulled the shirt over his head.

"Ha ha ha. We're off to find the horn of Jurgen Windcaller for the Greybeards."

Farkas nodded solemnly at her. "How was it?"

"What?"

"High Hrothgar."

"Peaceful,"she sighed.

Farkas walked across the room and started strapping himself into his armor."What did they want?"

"For me to learn the ways of the voice, I suppose. Honestly, I don't know,except," she wrinkled her nose. "Master Arngeir told me that they were there to serve the Dragonborn."

He grabbed his boots and sat next to her on the bed. She felt his heat radiating towards her and she leaned closer to him.

"Look at you, servants and everything," Farkas joked as he pulled on his boots.

"Again,I say ha ha ha," she said as she folded her hands under her thighs.

"Any reason you're not taking Skjor?"

Nayna pressed her lips into a thin line. Farkas paused to look up at her.

"You two fighting?"

She stiffened and then pushed off the bed. "Yes....No..."

"That clears it up," Farkas said with his usual good humor as he went back to lacing up his boots.

"Glad I could," she said making Farkas laugh.

"I only asked because you practically ran out of here after you two got back from Morthal and you stayed away for a month. Skjor was....well,I've never seen him that worried before, Nay. He would have gone after you had Kodlak not expressly forbid it. I've never known Kodlak to do anything other than advise."

"Just..."she shook her head. "Angry at him."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No,I want to get over it. And kill some spiders," she said.

Farkas laughed. "I'll get the Dragur if you kill the spiders."

"Deal!"She smiled and stuck out her hand. He laughed and shook it.

"There is something I want to know before we go....Are you in love with Skjor?"

Her smile faded and she jerked her hand away. Her gaze fell over his shoulder and she spoke to the wall above his head.

"I'm trying not to be. I want something more than he can offer. He's a good man, but I want a good man who is fully committed to me. Whose heart is mine and mine alone."

"I didn't ask to hurt you, Nay."

"Then why did you ask?" She snapped glaring down at him.

Farkas smiled up at her. "So I know whether or not there is hope forme."

Nayna was taken aback. She tilted her head, considering him. He was a nice, sweet man and he had always been kind to her. There was no doubt that she was attracted to him physically, and she felt drawn to him personally as well. He was different than any other man she had known. "I don't want to lead you on and you deserve more than I can give right now."

"Maybe I can make you forget, Nay...." His voice was soft, but he made no move towards her.

"Do you think its wise? I wouldn't want to...I wouldn't want to hurt you Farkas."

"You didn't answer my question—can I hope?"

Nayna smiled at him. "Yeah I guess you can."

Farkas grinned and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Good. Now let's go kick some dragur ass."

"Spider ass, you mean," Nayna joked and threaded her arm through his and they walked up the stairs and out of Jorrvaskr arm in arm. They walked that wall all the way through the gates of Whiterun while laughing and joking.

Farkas cleared his throat. "Weeelllll there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red....."

Over the hills, a wolf howled and she busted out laughter complete with full on snorting. With her hands on her knees, she bent over,laughing and trying not to cry.

"What's so funny?"

"You sound like a dying cow, love. Even the wolves know it," She tried to say it as gentle as possible. He stood in front of her, hands on his hips.

"A dying cow?"

"Mooooooooooo,"she giggled.

Farkas shook his head at her, but he was smiling. "Fine, I won't sing anymore."

"Noooooooo,keep singing, it's keeping me entertained!"

"Hah,well we need to keep moving, Nay."

She took the hand he offered, snickering.

"There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red," she began to sing.

Farkas mooed back at her and she giggled.

"Haha that's a lie and you know it. If there is one thing I can do, it's sing."

She righted herself. They continued up the path, fueled by each others giggles. One of them would finally stop,only to have the other begin giggling again and the process would repeat itself. It took them all day to reach Ustengrav, because they kept stopping to giggle or to eat, or in Farkas's case to constantly pee because of too much mead.

It was near nightfall when they finally arrived outside of Ustengrav.

Farkas squinted. "Two people and a fire."

"Are you sure?" Nayna tried squinting to see, but there was only snow as far as her eye could see.

"Yep."

"Want me to shoot them?" She joked.

"Jeez Nay, don't you want to find out if they're hostile or not before you start--"

He perked up, straightening his shoulders and tilting his head to the side. In one fluid movement Farkas drew his sword and two bandits stepped from behind the trees. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw him shudder.

"Watch out," he said swinging his sword into the first bandit. It sliced his belly, but he didn't bleed. Instead, putrefied guts gushed from the hole. The smell overwhelmed her, making her gag and choke. The bandit fell to his knees and then face first into the liquid on the ground. She jumped back and drew her knives.

"They're dead!" Her voice was extra high pitched.

"No kidding."

She lunged forward and caught the second bandit by the throat. Again he didn't bleed, there was only a gap in his throat. Nayna slashed again, this time on the side of his neck, and his head hung from the remaining flesh. Farkas ran his sword through the bandit's heart and it fell next to the other bandit.

She stared down in horror and Farkas shook his head in disgust.

He looked up at the two by the campfire. "Shoot them both."

She nodded and inched forward, silently, carefully aiming and releasing her first shot. The man fell back into the fire and the woman jumped up screaming, but she was quickly silenced by Nayna's second arrow to the throat.

"We should go inside," Farkas said, grabbing her elbow. She let him lead her into the tomb.

More dead, but unanimated, bandits lay scattered around, pickaxes in their hands. The walls of the tomb were cracked, as if they had been picked away, piece by piece. Dirt lay in a thin layer across the floor, and dust kicked up around their heels every time they took a step.

"Oh look, someone has been digging," Nayna said with a grin at Farkas.

"And recently," Farkas added with a wink.

"Necromancy,"Nayna said shaking her head.

"Disgusting....Magic is bad enough...."

"Hey,not all magic is bad Farkas," she said defensively.

"Well I'm not talking about the way of the Voice," he said.

She glared. "I used to use magic frequently. Am I a bad person?"

"Most of the time, no. Ouch!"

She had punched him in the shoulder. She watched his eyes narrow and his grin fade. He yanked his great sword and held it at the ready. Nayna reached for her daggers, just as the first Dragur burst through the archway.

Farkas thrust his sword through the first ones mouth and just as the second was raising his axe to attack , Nayna threw one of her daggers and it buried itself in the eye of the Dragur.

"Nice,"Farkas said.

"I try," she said, stalking over to the dead thing on the floor. She yanked the knife out and wiped it on the things trousers. "I hate fucking Dragur."

"I think you hate Dragur even more than you hate Ulfric Stormcloak."

"There is a distinct possibility," she nodded and smiled over at him.

"This is going to be a long night," Farkas joked. She snorted and he looked down affectionately at her and touched her on the shoulder.

She patted his back and smiled up at him. "Well, I could think of worse ways to spend the night."

"Heh,such as?"

"In bed, alone."

Farkas grinned. "If you're worried about being in bed alone, I can fix that."

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, but turned to creep along the corridor.He followed her, trying to be silent, but failing because of his clunky armor. She glanced back at him and pressed her finger to her lips. In the next room there were more tombs with the sleeping dead.The two dragur in the room were easily dispatched and they crept into the next room, where again they were met by another pair of dragur.It was room after room of dragur. They fought so many dragur, Nayna felt like she was becoming one herself.

"What's that saying?" Farkas asked as he slipped his sword back in the scabbard after the last had fallen to the ground.

"What saying?" Nayna leaned against the wall, panting as she tried to pull the cork from the water skin. It came out with a loud pop,making her wince. She took a swig and offered Farkas some.

"You know money talks, but the dead walk?" Farkas said, wiping his mouth and handing it back to her. Their fingers brushed, sending butterflies flapping in her stomach.

She shook her head at him. "That was an awful joke. Probably the worstI've ever heard in my life."

"But it made you smile."

She pushed off the wall and walked with him to the next room. "You're such a shit."

"Well what does that make you, stinky?"

"This seems awfully familiar...." Farkas said with a frown.

She looked over to where he was squinting at---an archway with bars. This one had three sets of bars. She swallowed, remembering what happened the last time. The last thing either of them needed was to get trapped and die.

"Well,I haven't seen any fragments," she joked uneasily.

Farkas pulled his greatsword out just in case. She held her bow at the readywhile they searched the room for a lever. But after a half hour of searching they couldn't find anything.

Farkas walked past one of the rocks, and Nayna heard one of the gates creak open. She looked over, but it was the back gate. There were three gates and three stones.

"Looks like we have to run through," she pointed to the rocks and then the gates.

"How the hell do we do that? That gate closed pretty damn quick...."

"I know....I'll have to shout...."

"I don't think shouting at the gate will make it open, Nay."

"My Thu'um, Farkas. I know a dragon shout for this. The Greybeards taught me. They must have known this was here....So stand back, let me pass through, there is probably a lever on the other side."

Farkas nodded. "Go ahead."

She positioned herself at the beginning rock and ran forward, shouting"WULD!"

Her body jettisoned forward, propelled by nothing other than her voice.She thought she was going to smack into the grates, but luckily each one opened just in time for her to pass. She stumbled forward,panting, as the world around her shook.

"Nay?"

"I'm fine! Hold on, looking for the lever. Give me a minute though, I think I may need to puke."

She heard Farkas chuckle from the other side of the gate. That asshole thought it was funny, well she would get him back.

"It's all fun and games until somebody pukes," she yelled. Lucky for her the lever was right in front of her face. The grates crashed open and she heard Farkas walking through to her. She closed her eyes for a moment to gain her breath back.

"Farkas?"She panted, hands on her knees. The dizziness from the shout still hadn't quite abated.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes fixated on a spot across the room.Spiders....She grabbed her bow and strung an arrow just as the first one darted from the shadows. The arrow buried itself in the spider's flank just before it nipped Farkas.

"Move!"She ran over to Farkas and pushed him out of the way. He stumbled to the side, and Nayna stood in front of him, dropping her bow beside him.

She yanked out her daggers as more spiders scurried towards her. The first lunged at Farkas and she kicked it across the room, as the second one jumped at her. She slashed, cutting two of its legs off,letting it fall to the ground. One of the spiders shot its venom at her and she wasn't quick enough to dodge it. She roared as it burnt the skin on her neck and fell backwards. Her daggers skidded across the floor to the other side of the room.

"Farkas,"she shrieked. "Farkas!"

He was still staring at the spiders in wide-eyed horror.

She crawled towards her knives on her elbows, one hand gripping her burning neck, but a spider grabbed her ankle with its pincers. Sherolled over and jammed her heel into its horrible eyes repeatedly.It's grip slipped ever so slightly and she wrenched her foot from its grasp. She tossed her knife at it and it bit deep into the front of the spider. Her other knife was on the far side of the room, so shepicked up Farkas's greatsword and pushed herself to her feet. It was longer than she was and heavier than she thought, but she had no other choice.

The sword was slow and clumsy for her and the force she swung it with was laughable, just like Vilkas had said. But it was sharp and it cut through the last spider. Backwards, she stumbled, digging at the wound in her neck. She sagged, propping herself up on the sword.

And then, the horror of horrors stalked out of the next room. It was the largest spider she had ever seen. She mustered all of her strength and roared at the spider. It ran to her and she ran to it. One nice slice was all it would take. Just one and it would be dead and she could sit down. She whirled the sword, but too late. One of the legs slapped her hand, knocking the sword away. It kept scrambling towardsher as she skittered away. But it still kept coming until it overtook her.

She screamed as it crawled atop her, and kicked her legs up, pushing its body away, but she couldn't keep it at bay forever. It couldn't quite reach her, but her legs were shaking and would soon buckle.

A loud gurgle and a scream emitted from the spider and Nayna saw a flash of steel disappearing into its side. It fell and rolled to its side revealing Farkas holding his sword high above his head. There was a wild, angry look to his eyes and Nayna put her hand up to him,as if to ward him off. He lowered the sword, looking at her with those wide blue eyes.

"Farkas,"she whimpered and reached for him.

"I'm sorry," he said and knelt beside her.

"Its okay, I'm fine. I'm glad you're not hurt, love."

He pawed at her neck making her suck a breath in sharply. "Your neck..."

She pointed to her bag. "There should be a green minty smelling salve in a brown jar."

Farkas dug through her bag and pulled out the jar. He opened it and startedslathering it on her neck. She grunted and shuddered from the pain,but sat patiently letting him take care of her.

"Nay,I shouldn't have frozen," he said.

"Farkas,you said it yourself at Dustman's Cairn. We all have our things....And you came through for me, love. Thank you."

He shook his head, but Nayna grabbed his hand and kissed his palm.

"Shhh,"she said, squeezing his hand.

"Your neck.....it looks better."

"The salve works like a charm."

"Arcadia not mad at you anymore?"

"Guess not."

She wiped her mouth the with back of her hand. Seeing Farkas's sweaty,flushed face she patted the ground beside her.

"Sit with me, love. Need to rest a minute. Ya know, before the dragur show up to make this a real party."

Farkas obediently sat beside her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.She leaned her head on his shoulder and heaved a great sigh. She lay with her head on his shoulder, eyes closed for a long time before she spoke.

"I am so cold and tired, Farkas."

He rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Sleep, I'll keep watch."

"What if the spiders come back?"

"I'll wake you. I promise."

While Nayna trusted Farkas with her life, she was a tad worried about leaving him on watch with all the spider corpses around. He was looking at her pleadingly and Nayna realized he was looking for the chance to make up for his folly earlier. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully and nodded at him.

"Okay,if you're sure."

"I am," he said, stroking his hand down the new shiny pink skin on her neck. She shivered, but not from cold.

She laid her head on his thighs and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to overcome her. Farkas kept a protective hand on the crown of her head.

Nayna awoke stiff and sore. Farkas's hand had moved from the crown of her head to her face. His thick fingers stroked the hollow of her cheek.She looked up at him and smiled and he brushed his thumb over her dimples.

"Hey,"he said.

"Heil,"she replied.

"I've been thinkin,"

"Uh-oh"she said as she sat up. He held out a steadying hand.

"Haha. I think you should make up with Skjor."

She brushed her leggings off, turning slightly away from Farkas.

He kept speaking. "I know you need your time....but I think you and Skjor need to make up. If you don't, you won't be able to move on. To get your....closure..."

She turned back to look at him and smiled. "You're smarter than you think, Farkas."

"So you've said. You know, you're the only one who has ever called me smart," he said softly and Nayna heard the twinge of pain that Farkas usually hid behind his good humor.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "That's because everyone else is too stupid to see what I do."

"We better keep moving," Farkas said as he stood up, pulling her with him.

"What about you? Don't you want to rest?"

"Nah,I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep.Come on, I think I heard the dragur party behind the walls there,"he teased and dodged as she tried to smack him.

They came to a great open cavernous room with several different floors,where several regular skeletons came to life. Those were easily eliminated by the two of them. Farkas stood at the edge of one of the platforms and beckoned her over.

"Look,"he pointed downwards towards a large stone carving on the bottom level. "Isn't that one of those thingies like you found in Dustman's Cairn?"

"Aye,"She squinted. "Looks like we have to find a way down there."

"What are they?"

Nayna led the way down the corridor. "They're called word walls.Supposedly every old Nordic burial site has them, left by heroes of old."

Farkas stepped ahead of her, jumping down a jagged rock formation. "What word? What does it do?"

"They're part of the words of power used for my Thu'um. Each Thu'um has three words of power. The more words I learn, the more powerful my shouts become. I only know one word to sprint, but I know two for my unrelenting force. I know one word for fire breath. We'll see what this one is."

Farkas nodded and grasped her hips and set her down on his level.

She squinted at him. "I'm not a lady anymore, you know."

"Whoa,you're not? I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in men like that,"Farkas joked.

Nayna laughed and tried to punch his shoulder, but he was too fast for her.As she was running after him, she tried to grab the shoulder strap ofhis armor, but it slipped easily out of her hands. She chased him down into the chasm and stopped when he went in the water. With her hands on her hips she shook her head at him.

"Nope.I'm not getting in. You win."

"But it's so nice and warm!"

"Oh well in that case...my answer is still no!"

Farkas made a grab for her and she squealed again, jumping from his reach.He splashed water in her direction and she kicked gravel his way.

"Okay,okay, you win!" She panted. "Let me get the word and then we have to finish this. The faster we're out of this dungeon, the better I'll feel."

She ambled over to the wall and felt the fire within her. She pressed her hand to the hot word and felt the power coursing through her body.This time was different than the others because she was ready, she knew exactly what it was and she was the one in control. The power soaked in through her, like a rock soaked in the warmth of the sun.

"Whew,"she panted and grabbed her waterskin, taking several large gulps."That wasn't as bad as before."

"Good,"Farkas said from behind her, making her jump in the air.

"Damn you!"

Farkas laughed his deep rolling laugh. "I was standing here talking to youthe whole time, Nay!"

"Horseshit!"

"Nope, smells clean to me."

She made the motion to punch him again and he stepped back. She looked into his eyes, enjoying the easy flirtatiousness they had. She could see the affection in his eyes and it made her shiver in delight.Every moment she spent with Farkas obscured her feelings for Skjor,leaving them lurking in the shadows.

They playfully rammed each other with their shoulders as they walked backup the path to the main level.

"Should be the next room, if the map the Greybeards gave me is correct."

"Think we'll find any more dragur?"

Nayna shuddered. "Gods I hope not."

They ducked into the next room, finding the remnants of a tomb. In the middle of the room there was a raised platform where the horn should have been with a piece of paper on it. Nayna crossed the room, after gesturing for Farkas to wait.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nayna cried grabbing the note.

"What is it?"

She threw down the note and gestured to the empty stand.

"The horn! It's gone!"


	14. Kodlak's Task

Of course the damned horn was gone. Nothing was ever easy. And the note was laughable:

Dragonborn—I need to speak with you urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.--A friend.

She was so angry she could have stomped all the way back to Whiterun, hell she wanted to stomp over to Riverwood, rent the room and then slap the asshole silly. It was only because of Farkas that she didn't. That and her damned neck itched like crazy. She pawed at it angrily, leaving long red scratches down the shiny pink skin that only irritated it more. Farkas pulled her hand away more than once and shook his head, lamenting that he'd used the last of the salve. They would get more later, she'd told him.

The sky above was pink and a misty fog blanketed the earth. She crunched her way over the frost-bitten grass, not bothering to quiet her steps as she trampled over the twice dead bandits. Farkas followed her,gingerly picking his way through the plains.

"You know, we should talk to Kodlak about this," Farkas said uneasily,glancing down at her with concern and alarm in his eyes.

She grunted and Farkas continued on. "If anyone knows what to do, it'll be Kodlak."

"Mmm,"she grunted again and Farkas sighed.

"You gonna stay pissed all the way home?"

"No.I'm not going home. I'm going to Riverwood and then I'm going to shoot whoever took my horn."

He put out a hand to stop her. When she was stopped he gripped her shoulders. "No, you're not. We're going home, Nay. We're going to talk to Kodlak. Then I'll go with you to get the horn, okay? I don't want you going in hot headed and getting yourself killed because you're acting stupid. You need to sleep on this at the very least."

She squinted up at him. "I hate you sometimes."

Farkas looked hurt and dropped his hands from her shoulders. She winced.Poor sweet, sensitive Farkas. Nayna put her hand on his arm. "I don't really hate you, I just hate that you make sense right now. I don't want to make sense, I want to shoot someone."

Farkas looked relieved and he chuckled. "You had me worried for a second there."

She smiled and stroked his face. "Don't worry, love, I'm just...."her hand dropped to rest on his chest. "ugh, now of all times!" She playfully smacked his chest plate. "It's always something you know? I just want some peace."

Farkas laid his hand over hers. "If you go looking for it, you'll neverfind it. Peace has to find you."

She looked into his eyes. "You amaze me Farkas."

He blushed and Nayna cackled. "Look at the red on you for once!"

"Ha ha," he said and looked anxiously over his shoulder. He cupped her elbow and led her along. "Let's keep moving, just in case."

She was tickled that he was trying to protect her. Instead of insisting that she could protect herself and risk hurting his masculine pride,she let him put an possessive arm around her shoulders and guide her towards Whiterun.

"Sing to me!" She said.

Farkas laughed. "Mooooooo!"

"Moooo yourself!" She bounced into him playfully and he responded by tugging on her braid. She shoved him off and ran into the brush, occasionally glancing over her shoulder with a come hither look. His laughter echoed around them and he followed her. Her neck still itched, but she put it aside for the time being.

They played their game of chase all the way back to Whiterun. Nayna never let herself be caught for more than a moment before darting off again. Once they were safe inside the gates, Farkas lay his arm over her shoulder casually. The sun was fully up when they arrived, and Adrianne was busy at her forge. Nayna chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

"I should get a new bow...."

"Your bow is fine," Farkas said.

She shrugged. "I'm in the market for a new one."

"But your bow is fine," he insisted.

"It doesn't feel right."

Farkas simply shook his head, knowing better than to argue with her once shehad an idea in her head.

She yawned into his armpit and he laughed. "Sleepy?"

"A little," she admitted. "You?"

"A little," he grinned. "First, though, I'd feel better if we went to Arcadia's for more of that salve...."

"Oh my neck feels okay now," she lied.

"It still looks bad...."

"Promise I'll see her after we sleep."

"Alright...."

Upon entering Jorrvaskr Farkas dropped his arm from her shoulders and walked behind her, yawning himself into the crook of his elbow.

"Night,Nay," he said as he sauntered down to his room.

"Night Farkas," she murmured before turning and heading to the whelp room.

She shimmied out of her armor and left it laying where it fell. It tookher less than a minute to doze off into a warm and comfortable sleep.

 

The next day she found herself seated awkwardly at Kodlak's table at Farkas's insistence. Kodlak was finishing an entry in his journal as she waited.

"So,"he said, smiling at her, snapping the book shut. "What brings you to me, girl?"

She told him what happened at Ustengrav and then handed him the note.

"Hmmm,"he said looking it over. "Farkas was right not to trust it, but...I see the dilemma here. Perhaps this person has the horn. Perhaps it is a trap. Perhaps this person is a friend. You should indeed find out,however, be vigilant. Take Vilkas with you."

"Vilkas?"She asked surprised.

"Aye,for there is a task I need of the two of you." Kodlak heaved a great sigh. "How do you feel about the beastblood. Knowing what you do about it?"

Nayna shrugged. "Skjor says its a blessing and Vilkas thinks its a curse.It seems the Circle is divided."

"Yes, but what do you think?"

She frowned and thought about what Skjor had told her. When she had the beastblood, she'd understand. Nayna had grown up hearing horror stories of werewolves, how they preyed upon people, tore the young and weak from their families.

"All I know is what I've heard and what I've seen. I've heard nothing but horror stories and yet I've seen nothing of the sort from any of them....I truly, truly don't know what to think, but I see in your eyes that you agree with Vilkas....That's what you were talking abouta year ago, wasn't it? When I first walked into Jorrvaskr...."

Kodlak smiled. "You have a good memory, girl. Aye, that is what we were discussing. Some, like Skjor, see it as a blessing. They would like nothing more than to hunt in the eternal lands of Hircine with their master.....But some nights...I dream of the mists of Sovngarde...And as long as I hold the beastblood, the shores of Sovngarde evade me."

"You wish to be cured, then?"

"Aye,but it is no simple task....Indeed, we are not even sure as to the cure....I have spent my old age searching for a clue, for anything. I have a source who tells me that the College of Winterhold may have a book or scroll pertaining to this sensitive matter. It is called The Blood of Our Foes. I wish for you and Vilkas to seek it out."

Nayna squirmed. "I would be most honored, Harbinger, but do you think I should be the one to accompany Vilkas? Don't you think Farkas would be better?"

Kodlak shook his head. "Farkas may agree with me on the beastblood, but I need yours and Vilkas's smarts on this delicate mission. I also need the utmost discretion. And lastly, the only way to gain entrance to the College is through magic. None here, aside from you, practices magic."

She was indeed flattered, if not a little overwhelmed at the task. "Ofcourse, Kodlak. As I said before I'm honored. And I truly hope we find what you need."

They both stood. Kodlak reached over and patted her cheek. "You're a good girl. Vilkas is awaiting you."

Nayna nodded and bowed herself out of the room. She swung by Farkas's room and knocked the door. There was no answer save for a deep snore. She chuckled to herself, realizing he had been serious when he said he wanted to nap while she spoke with Kodlak.

"You'll never be able to wake him. He sleeps like the dragur," Vilkas said.She jumped and spun around, her hand over her heart.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" She gasped, glaring at Vilkas who was standing with his arms crossed in the doorway of his room. He looked slightly bemused, a nice change from the normally sour disposition he usually carried.

"Perhaps you should learn to be more diligent. Come in," he gestured. She rolled her eyes and followed Vilkas into his room. Unlike Farkas's chaotic room, Vilkas's was neat and tidy, all of his books arranged alphabetically on the shelves, candles neatly aligned and ready for use, goblets, cups and glasses all lined up in a nice orderly row and nothing out of place. She sauntered over to the table and sat without him inviting her. He shut the door softly behind them and sat across from her.

"So,"he said.

"So,"she responded.

He sighed. "I don't know how to talk to you."

She shrugged. "I feel the same. You always have something nasty to say to me."

Vilkas narrowed his eyes. "And you always have something disrespectful and sarcastic to respond with."

She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. She shook her head. "Look,I don't want to fight this entire trip. I know you'd rather go with someone else--"

"I'd rather go alone," Vilkas muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah,well you're stuck with me. Unless you can find another magic user whom you trust with the Circle's secrets," she said and lowered her voice.

"I don't know whether I should trust you."

"You should. Skjor—Kodlak trusts me."

"Why do you care? I thought you'd be more like Skjor."

"You sound like a petulant man-child. I care because I can see how it dampens Kodlak's spirit. I want to do this for him. He's the first person who ever looked at me and knew I was worth something. I didn't even have to prove myself. He already saw it. Which is more than even Skjor did. I want to repay him for that. I'll never be able to, but I want to try. For Kodlak."

Vilkas's face softened and he nodded. "Alright. For Kodlak."

He stood and pulled a map from one of the books on the shelf behind him.He unfurled it and spread it on the table. "There is Winterhold, we can take the road out of Whiterun and north through the pale—what?"

Nayna was making a face. "Wouldn't it be better just to hire a carriage?"

Vilkas looked at her and rolled his eyes. "It's be easier, yes, but we're warriors. And carriages cost coin. And we need to have a good cover story."

Nayna shrugged. "I have coin."

"No.Plus there will be plenty of game to hunt."

She decided it wasn't worth fighting over, and what was an extra week or two? At least she'd be away from Skjor....But that also meant being away from Farkas.

"When do we leave?"

"I'd say day after tomorrow. I have a few jobs I need to clear up first.Get ready, go over what we already have, make sure we don't collectanything unnecessary....Come up with a cover story"

"Alright then."

Vilkas opened the door for her and she showed herself out. The sound of Farkas's snores echoed over the antechamber that connected his and Vilkas's room to the main hallway.

Up in the mead hall she found herself quite alone so she sat down in her usual seat. She picked up a crust of bread to nibble on while she studied the stupid note. She wasn't sure how long she sat there glaring at the note. Was it a friend, was it a foe? Who could havepossibly put the note there? It didn't seem like something the Greybeards would know about, seeing how they sent her on the quest in the first place. The parchment was fairly new and crisp, and the dialect, she noted, was the normal Common Tongue, so it had to have been written recently, definitely within the past few months....

The door to Jorrvaskr opened and she quickly stuffed the note back into her bag. Ria and Njada came in laughing and chatting with wolf pelts thrown over their shoulders, prizes for Aela. Nayna smiled weakly at them and Ria waved, while Njada just ignored her completely. That was fine with her. The less contact she had with Njada Sharptongue the better.

Antagonizing over the note was bad enough, but the worst part for Nayna was the fact that she couldn't resolve it straight away. It loomed over her head like a cloudy sky, threatening rain.

She sighed and pushed herself up. She decided to visit Adrianne while everyone was busy. It was early afternoon when she walked over to Warmaidens.

Nayna smiled at the woman and said, "I'm in the market for a new bow."

"Of course, Companion," Adrianne said and Nayna's heart gave a little thrill at being called Companion. "Here, we have the finest selection."

Nayna perused through the bows. All were finely made, some with enchantments, some with glass, and some plainer ones. She ran her fingers over each, but not felt right. Maybe she needed to play with them a little. She picked up one and drew the string back.

"Should have known I'd find you here, since I didn't see you or Eorlund at the Skyforge," Farkas called down to her. She looked over and saw him heading her way. A small smile appeared on her lips.

Farkas slung an arm over her shoulder, causing the arm holding her bow to droop.

"So,"he said and she turned to mock glare at him, but he went on as if he hadn't noticed. "I don't suppose you'd fancy a pint at the Bannered Mare, now would you?"

"I don't drink, Farkas," she sighed for the thousandth time. She handed the bow back to Adrianne and shook her head.

"I don't understand, Nay," he whined.

She shrugged his shoulder off. "Because drinking leads to stupidity andthen to a killer headache in the morning. Noooo thank you."

"Did ya do something stupid when you were drunk?" He asked, this time coming to stand in front of her.

Farkas would eventually wear her down, just like he always did. She fake glared at him and his grin widened, knowing he had her.

The other Companions made fun of her for not drinking at her own initiation ceremony all those months back, but she took it in stride and tried her best to be lively and fun. She and Farkas had told animated tales of Dustman's Cairn, though Farkas left out the parts where she froze and she left out the part where Farkas nearly died from spider bites. After the party had ended he came to her privately and begged her to stomp the spider in his room, which she did gladly,patting his back afterward. She smiled at the memory, it only made Farkas more endearing to her.

Skjor had barely let her go during the entire celebration, keeping an arm around her at all times. While she enjoyed his attention, it did makeher feel slightly uncomfortable, even if Aela didn't seem to mind it.Had the roles been reversed Nayna was sure she would have beenjealous in Aela's stead. Thinking back on it now only made Nayna more uncomfortable.

She turned her attention back to the bow in her hand and sighed. Adrianne was grimacing, waiting for Nayna to accidentally dry fire the bow.

Nayna shook her head and handed the bow back. It just didn't feel right.

"You're so picky," Farkas teased.

"Aye,well....I want my old bow back," she grumbled.

"You have your old bow in Jorrvaskr, silly girl."

She sighed and ran her fingers over the smooth wood of another. "Not that one. My bow that had been in my family for three generations."

"I have a nice Imperial bow---" Adrianne began, but Nayna made a face at her.

"Where did Aela get her bow from?" Nayna asked Farkas.

He shrugged. "She's always had it."

"Of course...."

"So I've got a job for you if you want it," Farkas said cheerfully.

"More spiders?" She teased.

"Ha ha,funny." He rested his elbow on her head. "You're so short."

"You know,"she said, elbowing him, making his arm slip around her shoulders again instead. "If I had a septim for every time someone has called me short, tiny or little I'd be richer than the High King of Daggerfall."

"Whelp!"Skjor called from behind them. Her heart did the stupid little fluttery thing and she was briefly annoyed until he came up to them.

Nayna sniffed. "I'm not talking to you."

"What'd I do?" Skjor asked.

She squinted and considered him for a moment. She could do like Farkas said and forgive him and move on, or dwell on it. She decided to push her feelings aside and fell back into the easy teasing pattern they'd established before their kiss. It was easier than she thought, probably because Farkas was slowly taking over her heart instead.

"You tried to get me drunk and take advantage of me. And then you blabbed to everyone that I don't drink while I was gone!" she said with mock offense.

Skjor chuckled. "That was months ago."

"And now, this one is trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me!"She elbowed Farkas again, making Skjor snort.

"Why don't you head up to Eorlund?" Skjor asked, gripping her arm and pulling her along.. He steered her towards the Wind District and she reached behind her for Farkas's hand, which he grasped and walked with them.

Nayna rolled her eyes and let Skjor guide them away anyway. "Because, hebitches at me every time I want to have the bowstrings tightened."She deepened her voice and threw a poor imitation of Eorlunds accent."Gods beards, girl. Shootin ain't the way of the warrior. Betterhave a nice axe..." Nayna shook her head. "A nice axe in the chest is the only one I'll ever hold."

Skjor and Farkas laughed together. She shrugged. "I just want my bow back."

"Your bow?"

"The one those fuckers took from me because of Ulfric fucking Stormcloak. And you know what? I bet Eorlund doesn't ever give Aela shit about her bow."

The three of them walked into the Bannered Mare and found an empty table. Skjor summoned the redguard woman—Saadia--over and said, "Three pints."

"Two pints and a water," Nayna shouted. Skjor shoved her playfully but she shook her head.

Farkas grinned. "It's no use. I've tried and tried."

"You can keep on trying, love. I ain't drinkin shit."

Skjor laughed. "So you're all talk now?"

Nayna shrugged. "Well now that I know you won't boot my ass in the street...."

"Whelp,whelp. What are we going to do with you?"

"Are you ever gonna stop calling me whelp?' She asked as Saadia brought over two pints and a water.

"Probably not," Skjor grinned wolfishly at her and picked up his mug. He raised it up and she started shaking her head.

"Don't you dare, I will cut you." She hissed.

"Everyone!"Skjor called out and Nayna felt her face grow red. "A toast to our newest Companion! Whelp---I mean Nayna!"

Throughout the tavern there were whoops and hollers as they toasted her. She buried her face in one of her hands while raising her mug in the other.

"I fucking hate you right now," she moaned into her hand. "It's been months you asshole."

"Yeah,but you've deprived me of my chance to see you turn into a tomato, whelp."

"Any room for me?"

Nayna looked up at Aela and smiled. She moved her chair closer to Farkas to give Aela room to squeeze between her and Skjor.

"Now that Aela's here, I think we need another," Skjor teased.

"I'm not lying, I will cut you!"

"Leave her alone Skjor," Aela was smiling. "Don't let them intimidateyou sister. We both know to keep our heads, while the men let their hearts rule."

They all laughed at that, Skjor perhaps the loudest. Nayna saw his arm drape casually over the back of Aela's chair, his thumb lightly brushing Aela's side. She looked away quickly, as if she saw something she shouldn't. Part of her was glad that he'd heard what she said about Aela needing all of him. She sipped her water and enjoyed the warm glow of good company and a hot hearth.

"You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn comes," sang the bard across the tavern.

Nayna groaned and thunked her head on the table.

"Carefu lthere sister, wouldn't want you to end up like icebrain over there."

"Ha ha, very funny Aela." Farkas said. He took a swig of mead.

"I hate that fucking song," Nayna said, her voice muffled by the table.

"Hey!Hey!" Farkas shouted. "Can you sing something else?"

"That'll be a septim," the bard called back.

Farkas flipped him a coin and the bard began to sing, "We drink to our youth. To the days come and gone, for the age of aggression is now nearly done..."

"Oh,yeah that's better," her voice was sarcastic.

Skjor chuckled. "Thought this song would be right up your alley, whelp."

She looked up at him quizzically.

"You know....because of...."

"Fucking Ulfric," Farkas and Aela chimed in and they all laughed at her.

"I hate the Empire more," she muttered darkly, but softly.

Aela leaned in close to Skjor. "Are we hunting tonight?"

Farkas stiffened and Aela looked at him defiantly.

"Kodlak wouldn't--" Farkas began, but Skjor cut him off.

"--Kodlak is not here, Farkas. There is nothing wrong with what we're doing,"Skjor murmured.

"Okay,if you want to believe that. Only," Farkas jerked his head in Nayna's direction and she looked down awkwardly.

"She already knows and it's not like she minds, do you whelp?" All eyes turned to her and she shrank back. The old apprehension was sinking in again.

She pushed back her chair. "This isn't a conversation I want to be apart of."

"Whelp...."

She shook her head. "I don't know, okay? I....we shouldn't be talking about this right now."

Not to mention the little quest Kodlak was sending her and Vilkas on in the morning. The conflict made her uncomfortable.

Farkas nodded. "She's right. Now, let's see who can make her drink first."

Aela,Skjor and Farkas all tried to get her to drink even a sip, but she held steadfast. They'd spent all afternoon in the tavern talking and joking and teasing. Nayna finally felt like she was home.Occasionally she would feel Farkas's knee brush her own or his knuckles on her thigh, but it was always subtle, always brief. But when it happened, her heart skipped a beat, every time.

Skjor leaned over to Aela and whispered something making her smile seductively at him. Nayna felt a pang of jealousy, but she swallowed it down with her water.

"Farkas...hey Farkas....icebrain!" Skjor yelled across the table.

Farkas's attention had been set on something in the corner, but he swung around to look at Skjor. "Mm?"

"Ten septims says you can't best me," Skjor said slamming his elbow on the table.

"Arm wrestling? Are you kidding me?" Nayna said and exchanged a glance with Aela.

"You're on!" Farkas grinned.

She watched the boys wrestling and laughing as she shook her head. But as much as she outwardly scorned them, inside she enjoyed every minute of the camaraderie between the four of them. It had been a very very long time since she had friends and even longer still since she had true friends she could trust.

Farkas slammed Skjor's hand on the table and everyone let out a whoop.

"You got lucky that time...Rematch!"

Farkas shook his head. "Hell no, I'm taking my ten septims and I'm buying the prettiest girl here a drink!"

Nayna flushed and looked at her hands, modestly, just as she'd been taught. Farkas was smiling down at her.

"Thank you, but I don't drink."

"Maybe a pretty ribbon instead," Farkas teased, making Nayna giggle.

Skjor rolled his eye. He opened his mouth to say something when Aela rested her hand on his bicep and looked at him enticingly and said "Are you ready for the hunt?"

Skjor's mouth curled into a slow, sexy grin and he nodded. "Aye." He tossed back the last of his mead and curled his arm around Aela's shoulders. "Nayna, Icebrain." He nodded to them.

Her brow furrowed as they walked out arm in arm. It bothered her more that Skjor had called Farkas Icebrain than that Skjor and Aela left so brazenly together.She shook her head and turned back to Farkas who was wearing a sad look on his face.

"You okay?" she asked and placed her hand on his big hairy forearm.

"Yeah,just...got my hopes up, that's all."

"For what?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, genuinely confused.

"I saw the look on your face when they left, Nay..."

"Oh Farkas," she sighed. "That's because Skjor called you Icebrain,not because I'm jealous. I don't like it when they call you that."

Farkas brightened, a smile lighting up his face. "Skjor and Aela, they're good people. They like to tease."

"I know. But you shouldn't let them call you icebrain. You're not dumb."

Farkas grinned. "It's all part of my plan. Act dumb, attract the ladies,profit."

She busted out laughing. "How is that working for you?"

"Well,I'm still waiting on the profit...." He grinned down at her. He was close enough that she could feel his body heat.

She giggled stupidly. "You're silly Farkas."

"Thanks,Nay,"he said and reached over to tug her braid. She playfully swatted his hand away.

"C'mon, it's getting late. Let's go sit our asses at Jorrvaskr and do nothing over there. At least there won't be this...music....," she said waving her hand at the bard.

"Okay."

Farkas moved to open the door for her and she walked under his arm.

"Shortie,"he joked.

"You owe me a septim!" She giggled and shuddered as the chill hit her."Shor's stones it's fucking cold."

Farkas threw his cloak and an arm around her shoulders and they walked towards Jorrvaskr. The streets were empty at this time of night. She curled up to him, glad to share his warmth. Above them the moons shone bright in the sky, lighting up the road ahead.

"What's it like?" Nayna asked dreamily, looking at the sky.

"Powerful,"Farkas replied. "It's....unlike anything I could describe. Even when..." he glanced around, making sure no one was about. "Even when we're not, it's....imagine the everyday sounds, smells, sights,tastes, touches, now imagine it even more. A whisper becomes a shout,the blood spilled can be tasted from yards away..."He shuddered with the memories, closing his eyes. When he opened them she was smiling at him. He ran a finger over her cheek"...What's it like being Dragonborn?"

She stopped walking and looked up at him, a little sadly. "I wish I knew, Farkas."

"Why don't you know? It's part of who you are now."

"I suppose," she said and they continued up the stairs ahead of the mead hall. But her mind was far from dragons. Eyes on the prey, not the horizon. She was truly thinking about Farkas. She loved the smell of leather and soap that clung to him when he was around and then hung in the air as he left. She liked the feel of his arm around her shoulders, of his body close to hers. It was different than when Skjor held her. She didn't feel the ostentatious need to please Farkas. She didn't feel like she had to prove herself to him, though she knew Skjor never put her up to that either, but something in her just strove to gratify her desire for praise when she was with Skjor. With Farkas, she could just be. She was slightly amused, thinking back to a few months ago when she utterly dismissed him, before she had truly seen him.

They stopped just outside the doors to Jorrvaskr.

"You know," he said, looking up at the Skyforge. "I don't feel like going in just yet."

She smiled up at him and nodded. "Okay."

They made their way up the Skyforge stairs, arm in arm, slowly neither talking. She could feel her heart racing with excitement, not dread,not anxiety, just pure elation. He could hear it, she knew, but that was fine by her.

The Skyforge emitted enough heat that she could sweep off his cloak and lean over the stone wall without freezing. The wind whipped her hair about her face, loosening several strands from the braid running down her collarbone. Beside her warmth radiated from Farkas. She watched him gazing up at the the moons, a deep longing look on his face. He turned his face down to her and his eyes reflected the dancing flames of the forge. She shivered with anticipation. Her heart thudded in her throat as he slowly leaned over her. His left hand came to rest at the small of her back, pulling her pelvis close enough to touch his. While his right hand reached to tuck in the stray hairs behind her ear and then slid to cup the nape of her neck. He drew her closer to him.

And then he kissed her, there at the Skyforge, under the stars of Skyrim.


	15. Winterhold

Farkas watched her buckle her belt. He was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, a sad look on his face.

"Do you really have to go?" he whined.

She smiled softly. "Aye, but I'll be back in a few weeks at most."

"Can't I come with the two of you?"

Nayna shook her head and looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Skjor and Aela are taking care of that nasty business in Markarth and since Vilkas and I are rescuing that artifact in the Pale....Someone from the Circle needs to stay."

Farkas sighed. "I know, I just wish I could be there with you."

Securing her knives in her belt, she looked up to find Farkas watching her. A slow smile spread over her lips as she remembered the previous night.He smiled back and came up behind her placing his hands on her hip sand rested his chin on her head. She smiled and welcomed the unfamiliar intimacy, leaning back into him.

"Me too, love."

He pressed his forehead to the crown of her head. "It's just unfair. I only just won you...."

She laughed. "I'm not a prize at the fair."

"Yeah,you are," he joked.

"I'll be back. And then we'll have plenty of time to...be together..."

The thought of laying with him filled her with excitement and anxiety.She turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his in a soft inviting kiss.

He pulled back and pouted. "Why do you do that? Pull me in for a kiss knowing it'll be weeks before another."

She giggled at him and he only sighed and kissed her again.

Vilkas cleared his throat. "Are you two finished?"

Farkas didn't even look around to his brother. "No. Not nearly."

Nayna laughed and pushed him away, as he tried nipping at her neck. "Mmmm, don't go."

"I'll be back, silly man." She pulled his face down and kissed him on the nose. "Save it for me, okay?"

"Yeah,yeah."

She stepped around Farkas and nodded at Vilkas. "I'm ready."

"Brother,"Vilkas said inclining his head before turning to follow Nayna from the room.

She could feel his dour mood emanating from behind her. So being the woman she was, she did the most petty thing she could think of: she began to hum a little ditty. Behind her, Vilkas snorted like an angry horse and Nayna resisted the urge to chuckle. Sometimes it was just too fun and easy to pick at poor Vilkas. He was one big cloud of discontentment. She held the door to Jorrvaskr open for him and they stepped into the morning air together.

Whiterun was as busy as it ever was. Heimskur stood in front of the statue of Talos, screaming and preaching about the God-man himself. Thinking ofTalos only reminded her of the amulet she lost. The amulet that hadbeen in her mother's family for generations. And she was the one tolose it. Anger rose in her heart. It was only an amulet, not proof ofany Talos worship. But it was the way of the Empire. Act first, askquestions later. Perhaps there was something to fucking Ulfric's rebellion after all....

Nayna was jolted from her thoughts when she realized Vilkas had walked ahead of her. She jogged to catch up with him.

"You know, I read the stupidest book the other day," she said.

Vilkas grunted. "What was it?"

"It was called the Gentleman's Guide to Whiterun."

A laugh escaped Vilkas. "Where did you find that?"

"Some cave full of bandits."

"I'm surprised they could read," Vilkas chuckled.

Nayna gave an appreciative laugh. "That's what I said! Anyway," she said, picking her way through the morning crowd around the stalls."it was basically a guide to which women were worth fucking."

Vilkas snorted. "So I'd heard. Hulda was less than thrilled when she came across it a few months ago."

"Hah,I bet she was just mad because Mikael declared his ever lasting love to Carlotta."

"Or it could be that he called her stout...." Vilkas said with a chuckle.

They passed through the gates of Whiterun, and turned to head north up the path. She sighed, not looking forward to the long journey. She was anxious to see the College, but it was less than thrilling to be traveling with someone who so openly hated the magical arts. Nayna on the other hand had more than just a touch of magic in her, past even the Thu'um. In Daggerfall all children were taught the magical arts at a young age, and Nayna was no different, even though she started her training rather later than other children. But she had proven herself to be fairly adept. It had taken some getting used to, to not using her magicka for anything except healing. Which, hilariously,none of the Nords ever had a problem with her magic when they were being healed. Such was the Nord way though, and from what she remembered, her own mother had been stubborn and mistrustful as well.

Nayna was pulled from her thoughts when Vilkas spoke next.

"What's going on between you and Farkas?"

Inwardly she rolled her eyes. It was only a matter of time before Vilkas broached the subject. And of course he chose now, when she couldn't escape.

"I don't know. We're taking it as it comes, I suppose."

"What does that even mean?"

Nayna shrugged. "Don't know. You should ask Farkas."

"He's not here."

"You should ask Farkas when we get back to Jorrvaskr."

"Believe me, I will. I just want to make sure you don't take advantage of him."

Nayna stopped and squinted angrily at him. He stopped beside her and glared back.

"Do you really think so low of me?" Her voice was quiet and Vilkas glanced down shame-faced.

"No,it's just that. My brother....his brains aren't his strong suit. I love my brother. I want his every happiness. I don't want some....girl coming along and breaking his heart because she can't make up her mind."

Nayna wanted to be angry at Vilkas, but he was only expressing his concern over his twin. That was normal, even if she was slightly offended.

"I'm going to do my best to do right by him. He's wonderful. And good to me."

Vilkas grunted. It wasn't the answer he wanted, but that's all Nayna wanted to give. She still wasn't sure what Farkas had meant by taking things as they came, and she was even less sure over her feelings for Skjor. They continued up the path.

She yawned and smiled to herself, turning her thoughts to the previous evening. They had been up more than half the night kissing and talking. Mostly kissing. Her heart skipped a beat at the memories of Farkas's lips on hers, his arms curled about her waist and his nose nuzzling her. She thought about him unraveling her braided hair, and running his long, thick fingers through it and bringing up the ends to rub to his lips from time to time as she talked.

Nayna and Vilkas spent the rest of the day keeping to their own thoughts.It was eerily quiet on the path. No wolves, or frost trolls, or even bandits. Nayna always had her bow at the ready, and Vilkas kept his hand on the pommel of his sword as they walked. The cold wind nipped at their ears, making her shiver. She wished she had thought to bring a hat.

"We should make camp. But off the road," Vilkas said, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Nayna nodded in agreement and followed him off the road. She stopped when she realized there was snow.

"Vilkas...our footprints." She pointed and he scowled.

"Look,you go on ahead and I'll get rid of them," she said.

"No,we stick together."

She sighed. "Alright, but I don't want to hear one word from your mouth about what I'm going to do."

For the first time in over a year she called up her magic. A frost spell was all that was needed. She felt her fingertips grow icy cold as she layered the frost and snow atop their boot prints. She nodded in satisfaction when they were completely covered and turned to look at Vilkas who was frowning.

"Well,we need that magic to get into the College anyway," he muttered and began setting up camp.

Nayna took first watch as Vilkas curled up in the tent. She watched him twitch and whimper in his sleep. Skjor did the same. Her first instinct was to go over and comfort Vilkas, but she ultimately decided against it. It was not a good idea to stir up his temper even more.

She turned her thoughts to the conversation she and Skjor had before she nearly died. When she was gifted with the beastblood. Would it belike that? Would she too dream restlessly? Would it always bebrimming beyond the surface, like Vilkas? What would it truly feellike? She sat on a nearby rock and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Farkas said it was powerful. Which was true, he had taken down those 8 Silver Hand in a matter of seconds,with little damage to himself despite the silver swords they carried.Vilkas said it was a curse, but Skjor said it was a blessing. She sighed, still as undecided on the matter as ever.

The sound of wolves howling at the moons echoed over the snow capped hills behind them. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and waited.

The rest of the night was uneventful and Vilkas dutifully took over his portion of the watch without complaint. Nayna awoke feeling foggy and groggy. Even the cold water she splashed on her face didn't do anything but sour her mood further. She and Vilkas packed up camp and set back out on the road, with her covering their tracks again using magic. His disapproval hung in the air between him, only worsening her mood.

"What is with the anti-magic attitude in Skyrim?" She griped as the hiked up the path.

"It's wrong. Nothing good ever comes out of it."

Nayna wrinkled her nose. "I just don't understand it...."

"Most of the truly evil things come out of magic."

"That doesn't mean all magic is evil."

Vilkas snorted, but Nayna went on. "What about my Thu'um?"

"That's different."

Nayna laughed. "Because it's Nord magic?"

Vilkas grunted in response and Nayna shook her head.

"You can't say all magic is bad and the only good kind is your kind."

"The Thu'um is an ancient Nord art."

"So you'd think it was completely fair if I used my Thu'um on you during a fight?"

Vilkas stopped and glared at her. "I'm not Torygg and you are not Ulfric fucking Stormcloak."

She halted as well, shifting her pack on her shoulder. "I'm justpointing out the hypocrisy. Anyway, according to the ancient customs King Torygg was challenged and died fairly."

Vilkas turned and stalked his way up the path with Nayna close on his heels."It's not our fight."

"That doesn't mean we can't have an opinion about it." Nayna ducked under a low branch. Ahead she heard Vilkas sigh.

"There are always good reasons to fight. I just wish this war had them. Who cares who worships what dead god? Give me something to make me draw my sword."

Nayna raised her eyebrows. "Dead god? There are more reasons--"

"--if you feel like it's such a good idea why don't you join fucking Ulfric's army then?"

Nayna frowned, a little hurt. "Because I'm a Companion and we're honor bound to stand neutral...."

"You forget. Every man and every woman their own. If you wanted to run andfight in the war, none would stop you....Maybe Skjor, but not for those reasons."

She ignored his little quip about Skjor. "But you just said it wasn't our fight."

"And so it's not. But no one will stop you if you go."

Nayna bit her lip. "It's complicated."

"Everything is complicated with you."

She shrugged at him. "What about the beastblood?"

"What?"Vilkas gasped.

"That's magic too and I--"

Vilkas swung around at her angrily. "Shut your stupid mouth."

She stopped and looked into his blue eyes, so like Farkas's eyes. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. "I meant no offense and Isee I've caused it. I'm just....I'm curious. What's it like...."

Vilkas closed his eyes as if he were gathering all his patience to deal with her. He sighed heavily.

"Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed the boons that come with the beast blood,but...Kodlak is right. It is a curse. No true Nord should live like this."

"Skjor and Aela are not true Nords?"

Vilkas glared at her, but said nothing.

"What makes it so difficult?"

"The urge to hunt."

"What's wrong with hunting?" Nayna felt confused.

"Come on girl, you're supposed to be bright. What do you think Skjor andAela hunt? Deer? Elk? Or men?"

She shrugged and Vilkas laughed a horrible laugh. "Don't kid yourself,Nayna. You can look the other way all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that Skjor and Aela are hunting more than just animals."

The pit of her stomach churned nervously, but she said nothing. She knew,on some level, that it was true, but Vilkas was right. She didn't want to see it so she kept her eyes firmly shut.

"Regardless,"Nayna said, continuing on, her boots crunching loudly in the powdery snow. "It matters not how I feel about it, or how they feel about it. It matters for Kodlak. I want him to have the afterlife he deserves."

"Aye,as do I." Vilkas sighed and followed her up the slippery hill.

She shivered and pulled the cloak tighter around her. As much as sheloved Skyrim sometimes she missed the temperate weather ofDaggerfall. The wind howled, making her ears sting and ache. At the very least she longed for the warm fires of Jorrvaskr, and for the easy company of Farkas.

It took them the rest of the day and part of the night to reach Winterhold. Vilkas hadn't wanted to stop and make camp again, so theyhad pushed on. Luckily, the inn had an empty room with two beds and Nayna and Vilkas were both able to get a proper nights rest and fill their bellies.

They headed up to the college in the morning and were stopped by an Altmer woman. Vilkas's feathers were a little ruffled when she demanded they show their magical prowess before entering the college.

"We are here on behalf of Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the Companions."

"That's....nice....You still need to prove your talents before I'm allowed to let you in."

Vilkas started saying something, but Nayna put her hand on his arm. "What sort of test?"

The elf woman began explaining and Nayna wrinkled her nose. It probably was a lot easier than it sounded, but Nayna didn't feel like figuring it out. She could probably use her Thu'um....

"I claim right to be here." Nayna said.

"After you've passed the test--" the woman snapped, finally tired of arguing with them.

"I claim the Dragonborn's right to set foot within the halls."

"Dragonborn?"The elf laughed at her. "Prove it."

Nayna took a deep breath and shouted at the elf, who was then promptly knocked on her ass. She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Vilkas snickering in the background.

"You...You really are the Dragonborn....I've always wanted to hear your shout....thank you. Right this way Dragonborn...."

Nayna made a face at Vilkas and he actually smiled at her. She leaned over and hissed "I'd love to knock her off this fucking bridge every time she calls me Dragonborn."

"Be prepared for a lot of boot-licking," Vilkas muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"I think the Gods hate me or something," she sighed.

Vilkas chuckled to himself and then followed the elf woman up the bridge and into the courtyard of the college. Two people were arguing over something, but Nayna and Vilkas gave them no mind.

Vilkas reached out and grabbed one of the passing mages by the arm. Helooked at them warily. "Yes?"

"Ah,the Dragonborn and her companion seek the library," said the elf woman. "Please show them the way."

Nayn abit her lips to keep from laughing. The look on Vilkas's facesuggested he was less than thrilled to merely be her companion. It at least was a distraction from them calling her Dragonborn.

"T-t-t-thed-d-d-rag-g-g-onb-b-b-born?" The boy's eyes were wide as he looked between Nayna and the elf woman.

Inwardly Nayna rolled her eyes, but kept her face clear as the boy escorted them to the library, eagerly stuttering on about their library being the best in all of Skyrim. She nodded politely as they ascended the stairs.

"H-h-here you go, M-m-iss D-d-drag-on-on-b-born."

"Thank you." She nodded and waited for him to leave.

"After you Miss Dragonborn," Vilkas said and Nayna scowled at him before stepping through.

She gasped and heard Vilkas's sharp intake of breath behind her. There were more books and scrolls than she had ever seen in her life. She could spend the rest of her days in the library, combing over the books.

"Don't you touch anything—I don't care if you're Talos himself—I'll fucking pound your ass."

A rather large and bulky Orc came up behind them and Nayna jumped. She took an instinctive step back, slamming into Vilkas who put his hands protectively on her shoulders. With a shrug, she pushed off Vilkas's hands and stepped forward.

"We seek a book for Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger--" she began but the Orc interrupted her.

"Yes,yes I know who he is. What does he want? Thinks he's too good to come himself, eh?"

"The Blood of Our Foes," Vilkas said.

"Go sit down and I'll see what I have. Go on, scoot! And don't fuckingtouch any of my books."

 

They sat in a darkened corner of the library, heads together, murmuring about the books they had found. There was nothing called Blood of Our Foes in the library, but the Orc thought there might be other books mentioning that book. So there they were, pouring over every werewolf book the Orc brought them. And Nayna sneaking to find Companion lore.She and Vilkas had decided together only to ask for the werewolf books and legends, so as not to raise suspicions of anyone close by.

Nearly a week had gone by and they were as empty handed as when they first arrived. She and Vilkas were equally annoyed, which brought on a mutual feeling of solidarity.

"I can't believe it," Vilkas muttered over and over again. "Kodlak was so certain that it was here...."

"Maybe someone took it?"

"Wouldn't the....I don't even know his fucking name....wouldn't he know?"

"I guess," Nayna said glumly.

"Come,there is no point in staying any longer...The further away I am from this place, the better I'll feel."

They made camp in the Pale that night. Both were feeling wary and exhausted, the futility of their journey weighing heavy on their hearts.

"I'll take first watch. You sleep, Nayna."

She nodded. "Thanks, Vilkas."

Over the past week she had felt the wall between them lowering slowly as they bonded over the books. True they had bickered more than actually talked, but it was the kind of back and forth between old friends,instead of new enemies. Once he had realized she was determined to help Kodlak, it seemed like his respect heightened. He did warn her that if she broke his brothers heart she'd have to answer to him, to which Nayna responded "Of course. I know how close you two are."And Vilkas had left it at that.

She curled down into her bedroll, letting her mind wander back to Farkas. Nervous anticipation settled in her belly, like tiny mice scurrying for cheese. All of this was so new to her. The only other man she'd been with had never treated her as well and never went out of his way to make it known that he wanted her. He had merely taken advantage of her naivety and innocence.

She squirmed, thinking about Farkas's lips on hers. Even now, knowing Farkas had practically begged her not to leave him, she still had doubts about him. He had told her, in between kissing, that he'd wanted her since she helped them take down that giant. But she was still scared that when she got back, he'd rebuke her.

Thinking about going home reminded her of the detour they were supposed to take. Nayna hadn't even told Vilkas about the note or the horn. She supposed she'd have to tomorrow morning. The horn needed to get to the Greybeards. Gods knew why. She had the Thu'um. She had no idea what they were trying to make her prove to them. Over and over again she ran the note through her mind. Ugh, signed from a friend. A friend her ass! With friends like that she'd take a dragon any day.

Nayna rolled over, agitated. Now she wouldn't be able to sleep and they would have to walk all the way to Riverwood tomorrow. A few more minutes of tossing and turning only succeeded in pissing her off more. She'd get up and let Vilkas sleep and she'd take watch and hope she'd get sleepy.

She peeked her head above the top of the bedroll and saw Vilkas standing alert and tense, his bow drawn.

"Don't move," he hissed at her.

Nayna's hand slid very slowly for the dagger under the bedroll. She curled her fingers around the hilt, waiting for a signal from Vilkas.

Vilkas crouched, the better to aim. That was when she saw a flash from the corner of her eye. Somehow she had already sensed it and rolled away,the axe just barely missing her. However it caught on the bedroll,trapping her lower half inside. She yanked the knife from beneath her but the man knocked it out of her hand.

"Fuck,"she said.

In the meantime Vilkas had released his arrow and was pulling out a sword as a rather large Orc came running at him. Vilkas wasn't as big as Farkas, he was still a large man, but he had nothing on the Orc.Her attention was quickly diverted from Vilkas, when the man started for her knife.

She scrambled forward on her elbows, slipping over the grass, fingers brushing the hilt of her dagger as the man kicked her in the face.Blood spurted out of her nose, and she coughed, choking and gagging.Blinded by the pain, she reached for anything she could use as a weapon, and the first thing her fingers curled around was a large and somewhat pointy rock. She grabbed the man's foot with one hand and with the other she smashed the rock into his ankle. He roared in pain and went down on his knees and Nayna scurried forward, grabbing her dagger. The man launched forward, his hands clasping over her wrists. She tried pulling her arms away to no avail.

As she struggled with the man for her knife, Vilkas was busy cutting down the Orc, the contents of its belly landing on the ground with aloud splat. But Vilkas didn't turn to her, he had turned to anotherpair of Silver Hand men emerging from the trees. Fuck, how many of these assholes were there?

The man punched her in her already bloody nose and she gasped, seeing stars, the already black night darkening even more. He slammed herother wrist on the ground and she dropped the knife. His other hand closed about her throat as she writhed and thrashed underneath him.She fruitlessly grabbed his arm, but his grip was far too tight.

"Not so powerful now, are you, bitch?" He whispered in her ear, sending nasty chills up her spine. He laughed and dragged her to her feet by the neck.

There was a loud growl, a bark and a flash of fur and Nayna fell back against the rocks. The man lay motionless, bloody on the ground,several gouge marks across his neck and chest. She sat dazed for amoment, unsure as to what happened. It looked like a wolf hadscratched him to death. No, something bigger than a wolf.Werewolf....werewolf! Relief and fear mixed together, as she realizedit was Skjor or...no it was Skjor and Aela. The other wolf had jumped in to help Vilkas.

She grabbed her dagger and then pulled the other from the pack laying on the ground. She jumped up and ran to the next Silver Hand and slashedat a nearby woman, who was caught off guard. The knife drew a deepgaping wound in the woman's chest and she went down to her knees.Nayna shoved the dagger into her throat for good measure.

The presence of another lingered behind her back, but as she turned to take him out an enormous paw shoved the man and sent him flying into the nearest tree. He slammed hard and fell to the ground, moving nomore. Her eyes met with the wolf's eyes, and she realized it was Skjor. She had no idea how she knew, she just did. He could taste her fear, she knew that too, but she wouldn't let it overwhelm her. One nod at him and she ran to the next target.

Soon the four of them had annihilated the rest of the Silver Hand. Vilkas came up to Nayna and handed her a handkerchief to wipe the blood from her face. She nodded in appreciation and begun to heal her nose. The throbbing instantly stopped, but she would have two black eyes for the next few weeks. A small price to pay for a nicely healed nose,though.

She looked around at the bloody mess, slightly horrified to see half eaten corpses strewn so casually over their campsite. This was what Vilkas had been talking about. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes willing herself not to be sick. When she opened them Skjor and Aela had transformed back and were watching her.

She tried to calm her racing heart and regulate her breathing. "Thank you," she whispered.

Skjor stepped forward, and put his hand on Nayna's shoulder. "What the fuck were you two doing so far from--"

"--frost trolls." Vilkas grunted. "Made those pussy bandits hot foot it right out of there a week ago. We spent the last days chasing them all over the fucking place."

Nayna nodded. Skjor and Aela exchanged glances.

Skjor turned back to the dead bodies littered on the ground. "GodsdamnedSilver Hand. They get bolder by the day."

Vilkas turned back to her. "We should find somewhere safer to camp...."

Nayna sighed. "We should go to Dawnstar and just hire a carriage. I wantto go home. I want to sleep in my own bed on the morrow."

Skjor nodded. "Whelp has the right idea."

"Wait,"Aela called.

They turned and Aela gestured to the bodies. "We should check them for anything important."

They found nothing, but Nayna wasn't convinced it was a random encounter. They pocketed the gold and potions they found and left the rest of the bodies where they lay.

"Come,let's go," said Skjor.

So the four of them trudged through the blood and gore, through the brush and snow to Dawnstar, where they took a carriage back to Whiterun. They walked in silence all the way back to Jorrvaskr and didn't even bid each other adieu when they parted to collapse in their own respective beds.


	16. The Lovers

After she woke up Nayna knocked softly on Farkas's door. The hour was quite late, she wasn't sure if he was already abed. Maybe he was trying to be sweet by not waking her up or maybe he truly had decided against her. There was a grunt and rustling movement behind the door. She wrung her fingers around the hem of her shirt anxiously.

The door opened and a wild-eyed and tangle-headed Farkas squinted out at her. His mouth split into the biggest smile she'd ever seen. Once again he was bare chested and bare footed, clad only in a pair of gray trousers. Her eyes were drawn to his perfectly sculpted body.

"Heil," she said rather stupidly, trying not to stare at his chest.

"Heil.....What happened?"

She reached up and touched her nose unconsciously at the same time he did. Their fingers touched and he ran his knuckle down her cheek.

"Silver Hand," she sighed.

Farkas frowned. "Damn them."

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug and leaned against the door frame.

Nayna looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes. His own were searching her face before he bent down and brushed his lips against hers, giving her heart a thrill that ran through her entire body. She kissed back softly as he gripped her wrist. He pulled her into his room gently and closed the door behind her.

His room was warm despite the lack of fireplace, unlike the coolness of the anteroom. As ever, it was a bit of a jumbled mess, with clothes and books and things strewn about the room. Not that he seemed to mind. Tilma probably never tidied his room knowing all her efforts would be in vain. Over at the bar Farkas lit a few more candles, letting their light dance over the two of them.

Nayna was still wringing her hands nervously as she watched him cross the room and shove the extra clothes from his bed. A flush crept along her chest as he gestured for her to sit.

He sat beside her, sneaking his arm around her waist. "I'm glad you're home."

She sighed and leaned into him a little. "Me too. That was one shitty journey."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No, not really."

He smiled down at her and she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She looked at the toes of her shoes.

It wasn't that she didn't want to be there, but she couldn't shake that nagging feeling. The last man who had slept with her had been utter scum. He'd used and abused her and left her high and dry, after promising to marry her. In her heart, she knew Farkas wasn't like that. He was a good man and so sweet; sweeter than anyone she had ever known. Giving herself to Farkas would mean shedding her insecurities. But wasn't that what Skjor wanted her to do?

Farkas tucked his hand under her chin and tilted her face to his, pulling her from her own mind. Slightly relieved she smiled hesitantly at him, both wanting him to kiss her and equally scared he would. She sucked her lip between her teeth as he studied her face with those soft blue eyes. His thumb rubbed all along her sore nose and underneath her eyes. Her heart was racing with anticipation and anxiety.

He bent down and her own brown eyes automatically fluttered closed as he smoothed his lips over hers. A roaming hand wandered to the nape of her neck, holding her securely to him. His kiss was loving and so tender. For just a moment she froze, not used to gentleness.

And then she was kissing him back, her own hand coming up to cup his cheek. She ran her thumb over his bristly beard, enjoying the feel of it under her fingers, but also enjoying its rasp across her chin. Unexpectedly she felt his tongue sliding across her lips and she parted them without thinking. His tongue gingerly rolled over hers, exploring her. She allowed him to probe along her tongue and search, letting her own stroke along his, the taste of spiced mead filling her mouth. The kiss deepened and he delved further into her mouth, slowly and carefully. It was almost painful how slow he was taking it.

His lips weren't like Skjor's at all. Farkas's kiss was hesitant, while Skjor's was hungry with desire and unfulfilled longing. While Nayna felt attraction and lust when kissing them both, there was something she'd felt with Skjor that just wasn't there with Farkas. But she ignored that and basked in the feeling of being wanted.

And then Farkas was pulling back a little and she found her hand digging in the back of his head, trying to force him to stay. But he was stronger. He smiled down at her, though he was panting a little. Underneath her palm, his heart was thumping. She stroked her fingertips over the dark, wiry hair covering his chest.

He ran his hands down her sides and she giggled and squirmed in his arms.

"Are you ticklish?" A mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"Me? Noooooo," she said, pretending to be wide-eyed and innocent, but Farkas wasn't buying it.

She shrieked as his hands walked their way up her sides. She tried to worm and wiggle her way from him grasp, but he was too strong. Laughter erupted from her as he scaled a full blown tickle war. She launched her own attack making him chortle. When she tried to get up Farkas held her down. Excitement ran up her body, stopping at a heated position between her thighs.

He rolled on top of her, still tickling, while he kissed the sensitive part of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His lips fluttered around her throat, to the underside of her chin and then to the other side of her neck, making her snicker and groan.

"You win!" She gasped. "You win, I surrender!"

Farkas collapsed on the bed beside her, laughing. He rolled on to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look down upon her. With his other hand he stroked her face and she squeaked, the left over feeling of being tickled not quite gone.

"You feel better?"

"What?" She giggled as his fingers traced down to her collarbone and rubbed back and forth. It was driving her crazy so she caught his hand with hers.

"I know you're anxious and nervous."

Nayna bit her lip and looked into his playful blue eyes. She debated on whether or not she should tell him. It could ruin their playful fun. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. She closed her eyes and in her minds eye, she imagined it was Skjor's lips under her fingers. With a shake of her head, she pushed Skjor from her head.

"Aye..." she sighed. "I suppose I should tell you this now....It's been....a very long time since I've...done this....And the man....he wasn't...he didn't treat me so good. And now...."

"You're worried it won't be good?" he asked, lips still against her fingers.

She nodded and Farkas smiled at her in return, running his fingers over her face in a gentle caress, easing her away from her discomfort.

"You tell me if it's not good and we'll fix it."

She smiled and stroked his lips.

"Trust me?" He asked.

She nodded again. "Aye. With my heart."

One hand resting gently on her hip, he slipped his other arm under her head and leaned down to capture her lips against his. He placed her hand upon his own heart and drew her closer to him, deepening his kiss.

She kissed him back, though this time her lips were parted, inviting him to explore her mouth. Their tongues danced and swirled together for a time. Heat slowly spread from her head downwards. Desire was filling every inch of her. She kicked her shoes off, still kissing Farkas, and then hooked her leg over his. She pushed with all her might and rolled them so Farkas was on his back and she was straddling him. The hardness of his groin pushed against her inner thigh. When she pressed her hips against his a groaning pant escaped his mouth and he looked up at her with glittering eyes, watching her shimmy out of her shirt.. She reached behind her for the ties of the cloth that bound her breasts. His hands traveled upwards, coming to settle at her hips, fingers stroking the bare flesh above her leggings. Goosebumps popped up on her skin as she shivered under his touch. And she wanted more, wanted that itching lust scratched and sated. Wanted his hands to work magic over her body, stroking and pulling at the sensitive areas of her skin.

She let the bandeau fall slowly to the floor, and her eyes fluttered back to his. He made a sound of appreciation before gliding his hands upwards to cover her breasts. As he cupped and squeezed them, she moaned quietly. Her back arched in response to his teasing fingers. Inside her head she was begging him never to stop. It was a pleasurable torture he was putting her through. He licked his fingertips and rolled her nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. She whimpered and squirmed in pleasure, wanting him to stop and to go on forever. Now more than ever, she craved more than just his touch or his tongue. She craved him inside of her, wanting to know what bliss two bodies in the night could be together.

The heat between her thighs was threatening to consume her. She put more weigh on his groin, and he lifted his hips to press himself further against her. She had never wanted a man more than she wanted Farkas at that moment. He gripped her waist and pulled her down for another devouring kiss. Her bare breasts stroked across his chest, and she sighed into his mouth.

He bucked his hips again and she moaned. His hands traveled down to her backside, where he squeezed and jostled her, rubbing himself against her. Her hips moved with his and he groaned. He was pushing down her leggings, so she climbed off and yanked them down, kicking them away to the floor. She watched eagerly as he lifted his hips and took down his own pants, tossing them into the Oblivion of clothes upon the floor. Underneath his loincloth she saw the outline of his hardness and a little thrill drove its way up to her heart. She laughed nervously as he sat up and pulled her close. Her arms wound around his neck, while his wrapped about her middle.

He was kissing her again, tenderly and deeply, holding her tightly and snug to his chest. For the first time in a long time, she felt utterly safe and secure.

"Farkas," she whispered into his mouth.

"What is it, love?" He pulled back and pressed his forehead to hers.

She giggled and shook her head. "I just wanted to say your name."

He laughed wickedly. "I'm hoping you'll say my name all night long."

"That too." She said and kissed him again.

He lowered her gently to the bed with one hand while untying his loincloth with the other. It too went into the Oblivion clothes pile. Her eyes flickered down to look at all of him. The dark fur of his chest went down to his belly and then even lower still. Instinctively she reached up to run her fingers through the wiry hair and he sucked in a sharp breath.

She smiled up at him and he reached for her underwear, untying it. His fingertips slid the length of her legs, slowly pushing them open. When he reached her inner thighs, he stopped and she opened herself even further for him and watched him gazing into her most intimate self. The waiting was a torment to her. She desperately just wanted him to touch her, to run his fingers over her, through her, inside of her. Nayna lifted her hips slightly, encouraging him and he grinned down at her. He snaked his fingers down to her own dark patch of fur and this time it was her mimicking his sharp intake of air. The heat rose like waves, washing over her. She lifted her hips even higher in response, hoping he would touch her further.

All her nervousness had dissipated, replaced with wanton desire. There was nothing she wanted more than to lay with him, his manhood buried deep in her warmth, his body covering hers and her own body writhing and wriggling in pleasure underneath.

She gasped as he ran his fingers down the cleft, wetting his finger in the process. He opened her legs further with one hand whilst the other he used to slide a long, thick finger inside. She gasped as he stroked his finger in a come hither motion. With his thumb, he stroked upwards until he found the place that made her shudder. Between his finger and thumb, it didn't take her very long to reach her pleasure, her moans piercing the silence of Jorrvaskr.

"Shhhh," Farkas said, with a wide grin on his face as he climbed atop her. He kissed her jaw, her ear, her cheeks and finally her lips. "Everyone else can hear."

She flushed, but he kissed her again. "It's okay, Nay. I like it when you moan loud. A lot. Means I'm doing my job. The walls have ears."

His kiss was slow and deep, tongue delving once more into her mouth. But this time she felt him against her thigh, moving slowly against her, searching for her warmth. She gripped his hips, never wanting to let go as he guided himself towards her, lowering his hips between her legs. Her heart fluttered with nervous anticipation as she felt his manhood pushing between her thighs. With an achingly heavy slowness he inched his way inside of her and she shuddered with pain and pleasure as she enveloped him. He was gradually stretching her out, shaping her to fit his form. It was antagonizing and delicious at the same time. If he kept it up, she would climax again and again. He groaned in her ear and she shivered.

She whimpered more the further in he went. At one point he stopped to ask if she was okay.

"Aye, it hurts a little, but...ohh...it feels so good. Don't stop."

"Okay," he said kissing her neck.

When she was nearly full she raised her hips to meet his, making sure he truly filled her to the brim. He pulled back slowly and she whimpered again, lowering her body in defeat. This time though, he didn't push in slowly, instead moving inside of her with increasing speed. That aching fire coursed through her again, causing her to shudder and moan underneath him. His mouth found hers as he thrust and she allowed him to slip his tongue in between her lips again. Nayna pressed her fingertips into his back, hard enough to leave bruises on his soft skin. She couldn't let go. Not when it felt like this.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, moving along with him. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and she clung to him, not wanting to let go.

As Farkas moved inside of her, Nayna couldn't help but wonder if it would be this good or better with Skjor. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't completely block the memory of Skjor's soft, full lips pressing against her own. Couldn't drown out the sounds of his sighs, or the feel of his rough, calloused hands on her face and neck or buried in her hair.

Farkas slowed himself down, driving in and out of her with a slow deliberateness that drove her crazy. She was brought back from memories, into the present.

"Faster, please," she whimpered, but he kept his pace. Every time their bodies met he let out a soft grunt that filled her heart with ever more desire.

"Oh Nayna," he whispered in her ear and more pleasure coursed through her body.

"Oh Farkas," she responded, making him smile against her ear.

He continued to tease her, alternating his pace. Sometimes going slow and sometimes speeding it up. But he always looked into her eyes, as if he was making sure she was not in any pain. She simply lay back, encouraging him along.

His breathing began to quicken, and she lifted her hips to meet his, eagerly smashing herself against him. He moved inside of her faster and faster until he threw his head back and with a loud groan, he stiffened and then shuddered. She felt the warmth coursing inside of her as he collapsed on top of her. His mouth traced kisses from her collarbone up to her mouth where he gave her a long toe curling kiss to finish off their love making. Up on one elbow, she was kissing him back and cupping his face in her hand, fingers brushing over his beard. Skjor didn't have a beard, so the feel of Farkas's was quite unfamiliar to her chin and fingers.

Farkas pressed his forehead against hers, still panting, still inside of her. She slid her hands up his biceps and buried them into his hair as she lay back, pulling him along with her.

"Good?" he asked and Nayna nodded vigorously.

"The best," she whispered and he laughed with a hint of giddiness that only endeared him to her.

"Same here," he whispered back and kissed her deeply again.

After a few minutes of kissing and caressing Farkas rolled off of her and she shivered at the sudden lack of warmth. As he searched the room, Nayna propped herself up on her elbow and watched his perfect backside flex and relax. He came back with a cloth and helped her clean herself up. Then he pulled back the covers and snuggled underneath them with her pressed firmly to his side. Her head cradled on his chest by one big hand, while his thumb stroked her hair. She threw her leg over his and an arm over his belly, stroking the fur. They lay entangled, listening to each other's breathing for minutes, hours, days...When she closed her eyes, she guiltily imagined it was Skjor holding her close instead of Farkas. Nayna lost track of the time as she lay in her own contented world, the warm glow of their love making floating over her like a cloud.


	17. The Beastblood

Nayna slipped into the Bannered Mare, searching for Vilkas and finding him lurking in the shadows. She threw a warm smile to Hulda, the innkeeper, and picked her way through the normal night crowd to the corner table. She tossed her bag down on the bench and collapsed beside Vilkas, pulling at the bread on the table in front of them.

"Any luck?" She asked between bites of bread and cheese.

Vilkas sighed and shook his head. "None. Not a damned person has even heard of this book."

He picked up his mug and took a long drink. Nayna chewed her lip.

"You think maybe...it doesn't exist?" That thought had been gnawing at her for a long time and as loath as she was to admit it, maybe it was time to consider that possibility.

Vilkas half shrugged. "I hope it does. For Kodlak."

Nayna nodded and whispered. "For Kodlak."

Over the past few months it had become their mantra...For Kodlak. In between normal jobs, she and Vilkas searched the far corners of Skyrim for the damned book, or anyone who had heard of it. Neither had any luck thus far, and both had far too many jobs for the Companions in their queues to devote as much time to finding the book as they would have liked. That and Skjor was becoming a tad suspicious about her sneaking around. The thought of Skjor being jealous sent shivers of excitement up her spine. She guiltily stuffed that thought down. Every time she thought of Skjor she felt like she was betraying Farkas. And every time she thought of Farkas she felt like she was betraying Skjor. Her heart and head were both so confused.

Nayna was beginning to think giving Farkas hope had been a mistake. He was kind and a complete gentleman. The attraction was there, of course, but as she first suspected, he just was too simplistic for her. At first his laid back nature appealed to her anal retentiveness, but lately it frustrated her. She cared for Farkas a great deal but not the way she should. The worst thing was that she felt like Farkas was on the cusp of telling her he loved her. She knew she was going to break his heart and it made her own ache.

Saadia brought her over a tankard filled with honeyed water and a bowl of steaming stew. Nayna nodded in thanks and scarfed it down, sopping up the remains with the crust of the bread.

Vilkas made a face. "What happened to those courtly Daggerfall manners?"

She belched, making Vilkas roll his eyes.

"We're not in Daggerfall and I'm starving. I haven't eaten in....nearly a day."

"Where were you?"

"Falkreath. Another escaped prisoner."

"He didn't try to stab you, did he?"

Nayna glared at him. "Funny. No, I shot him long before he saw me."

"You get the gold from the Jarl?"

"You really don't trust me do you? Of course I got the gold from the Jarl. Fucking fuck, Vilkas."

Vilkas ignored her little outburst. "What do you think of Siddgeir?"

Nayna chewed on her lip a little, staring over Vilkas's shoulder at the wall. "Scuzzy little man. Asked me to clear our some bandits that didn't give him his cut. Told him I'm not part of the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood, so he should look somewhere else."

Vilkas snorted. "Bet he was thrilled with that."

"Very much so, in fact he only told me to get the hell out of his hall. I expected at least a fuck or two."

Vilkas raised his eyebrows and Nayna laughed. "You know what I meant."

He nodded and tilted his head in the direction of the bar. "My brother approaches."

Nayna glanced over her shoulder to see Farkas headed their way. She smiled outwardly while wincing inwardly and slid along the bench giving him room. Whenever she say him lately, she felt a puddle of remorse in her belly and she'd been hoping to avoid that sick feeling until tomorrow. But she couldn't be too upset, for the smile Farkas gave her lit up his entire face. Before he sat beside her, he leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth. A flush crept up her cheeks at the blatant display of affection. But as usual Farkas didn't notice. Vilkas merely raised an eyebrow and drank his mead.

Farkas slung his arm around her and grinned over at his brother. "So what are you two doing here?"

"Eating," Vilkas replied.

"Ha ha, you two eating together."

"Farkas," Nayna murmured and nuzzled his neck, hoping to distract him.

Neither she nor Vilkas told anyone what they had been up to, per Kodlak's request. Farkas couldn't keep a secret to save his life, Aela wouldn't agree at all and Nayna knew how pissed Skjor would be if he found out she was doing this behind his back. And it killed her on the inside, not being able to share it with Skjor.

While they weren't as close as they once were, there was still the bond they shared. Nayna couldn't explain it, but she was always drawn to Skjor, especially when she tried to avoid him. Mostly she just gave in and did her best to act appropriately. They still sparred together, ran jobs together and just sat around Jorrvaskr some days doing nothing together. When she wasn't with Farkas, of course. She had done her part and forgiven Skjor, apologizing for ripping into him that night. He had accepted her apology gracefully and that was that. They had nearly regained their flirty friendship, reminiscent from when they first met. Sometimes Nayna wondered if it bothered Farkas, but he said nothing and so she let the matter drop completely. Though in her heart she was guilty for still having feelings for Skjor. Whenever they accidentally touched, she still felt the sparks between them.

Vilkas stood. "I'm going to retire for the night. I have a job to run in the morning with Ria."

"Goodnight," she and Farkas said together. Vilkas nodded, clapping his brother on the back and giving Nayna a look that clearly said, we'll talk later. She inclined her head slightly and off he went.

In the meantime, Farkas was kissing her hair, her ear, her temple. "I missed you."

She smiled sweetly. "I missed you, silly man. Sorry it took so long."

And she had missed Farkas, but she missed Skjor more. Nayna looked down into her nearly empty bowl of stew.

Farkas turned her face towards him and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. She relaxed into him, closing her eyes, trying to shut out the world and trying to shut out Skjor. But as usual she wasn't having any luck. She wasn't falling for Farkas like she should and the lingering feel of Skjor's mouth on hers hung in the air between them, always. Farkas never knew that, though. No one knew about their kiss. How she cherished it far more than even her first kiss with Farkas.

Nayna pulled away, ashamed. She gulped her water, trying to cool her face.

"Hey, whelp. Icebrain," came Skjor's voice from behind. Of course Skjor would turn up right then.

"Skjor," Farkas said with a nod.

Nayna smiled warmly at him and turned her attention back to eating. Skjor tugged her braid and then took Vilkas's empty seat across from them while he beckoned Saadia over.

Saadia plopped a bottle of Black-Briar mead in front of Skjor, and sashayed away. But Skjor was busy watching Nayna.

"How'd the job go?" Skjor asked.

Nayna shrugged. "Same as ever. One less maniac in the world."

Skjor chuckled. "Bit by bit we bring honor to the land. And more importantly, gold in our pockets."

Nayna and Farkas laughed. She dug into her satchel and tossed the bag of gold to Skjor. He counted out her share and slid it towards her. The rest of the coin would go into the Companion's treasury.

The three of them sat in silence for a while, each keeping to their own thoughts. Farkas draped an arm over her, his fingers stroking the bare skin of her arm. Nayna was watching Skjor who was frowning at them while playing with the silver amulet he wore so often. She was surprised to see it then, he rarely left it untucked.

"Hey," Farkas said, kissing her on the cheek. "I'm going home. Coming with?"

Nayna gestured to the food. "Still hungry. I'll come find you in a little bit, okay?"

Farkas smiled knowingly at her and kissed her forehead. "Night."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Skjor watching them bid farewell to each other. When she looked at him, she saw the tones of jealousy in his face. A beat of excitement rose to the surface, but she pushed it down and picked at the bread in front of her.

"Whelp..."

"Skjor..."

He chuckled, almost nervously and she raised her brow at him.

"You've changed," he said finally. He was still toying with the tailsman.

"Have I? I don't feel any different."

"Yeah, you have. You were so timid when you walked into Jorrvaskr. And now...." He smiled fondly at her.

Nayna laughed. "I'm still timid."

"Not so much. Especially since you came back from High Hrothgar."

"I don't know," she mused. "I guess it's just because I realized...." She laughed and shook her head. "It's dumb. Nevermind."

"I doubt it's dumb, Nayna."

The sound of her name rolling off his tongue made her shiver internally. She looked up at him, giving him a half smile. "I realized I have value. Something I never knew before."

Skjor looked down at his bottle, the sweet smile on his face gone, replaced by the tightening of his lips. "You know whelp....If I ever met your father....I think I'd punch him in the face."

Nayna busted out laughing. "Skjor! You're so bad. And you'd have to wait in line behind me and a thousand other people."

Skjor didn't laugh, but only looked at her seriously. "I'm not joking. You were so small and nervous before. They made you small, when....that's not the case."

"Have you looked at me?" She teased. "I am small. Hell I'm almost smaller than half the children around here!"

She was avoiding the subject, partially feeling self-conscious and partially because she was afraid where the conversation would lead to. They both had lovers to think about, they shouldn't think of each other. Not like that. He gave her the look she knew so well. The one that said stop fucking around, whelp. She could hear it in her head.

"Your family makes me....irrationally angry, whelp. There is so much more to you than meets the eye."

That time Nayna blushed a deep scarlet and looked down at her water. This is where she hadn't wanted to go. A distraction was needed, pronto.

She cleared her throat and pointed to the amulet. "What is it?"

"A token of Hircine," he replied and took a swig of mead. "It was given to me by the previous Harbinger shortly before he passed on."

"You two must have been close."

Skjor nodded absentmindedly. "He was my mentor and my.....forebearer."

She popped a hunk of cheese in her mouth. "Forebearer?"

He lowered his voice, making her lean in close to hear him. He turned so his lips brushed her ear, sending a thousand goosebumps over her skin, and whispered, "He gave me the beastblood."

The mention of the beastblood only served to arouse her more. She turned her face to his, nearly nose to nose with him, she felt his breath puffing on her cheek. If she tilted her head, even a little, their mouths would meet.

"What was it like at first?"

Skjor pulled his face back, the better to gaze into her own. He sized her up and finally gave her his wolfish grin that both intrigued her and unsettled her.

"What are you doing tonight, whelp?"

Her brow furrowed. What was he playing at? Was he playing off her desire? Could he....could he smell it? She flushed suddenly, but raised her eyebrows defiantly at him.

"Farkas." She replied, rather bluntly, raising the tankard to her lips. Something flashed over his face. She couldn't tell if it was pain or jealousy.

"Well, after Farkas, then?"

She took a sip of her water. "Probably Farkas again."

He pursed his lips at her, brow furrowed. "Think you can sneak away after?"

Her heart skipped at beat at the mere thought of meeting Skjor in secret. Then she was angry, she wasn't that kind of girl. She narrowed her eyes. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Get your mind out of the gutter whelp."

"Look, Skjor--" She said and started to stand, but Skjor unexpectedly gripped her wrist, sending shocks up her arm.

"--you know Kodlak thinks you're ready for the Circle?"

"What?" She asked and sat back down with a thump. Skjor didn't let her wrist go, instead rubbing her quickening pulse with his thumb, which only made it bump faster and faster.

He nodded. "Yes, he does. I agree. I believe he said he wanted to speak to you as soon as you returned from Falkreath?"

Nayna nodded, wanting to pull her hand away from Skjor's, but not really because she loved his touch.

"I....I can't believe it," she breathed. "I am....so....I don't even have words." She giggled nervously and Skjor smiled at her.

"So you'll meet me tonight?"

She was distracted so she nodded at Skjor. "Yeah, of course....Where?"

"The Underforge at midnight tonight."

She tilted her head to the side. "The Underforge?"

He chuckled. "Sorry, whelp. Forgot you've never seen it. It's underneath the Skyforge. I'll meet you out there and show you the way."

"I'll be there...." She still felt hesitant, but she realized she truly wanted to go.

"Good," and he grinned his wolfish grin at her.

Skjor let her go and she nervously stuck her thumbnail between her top teeth, gnawing on it. They spent the rest of the meal sitting in silence, him watching her eat and rubbing the toe of his boot along the side of her foot and her heart racing, feeling like it would simply pound out of her chest.

After sating Farkas into a deep sleep, Nayna slipped into a pair of leggings and a simple green tunic with her worn leather boots. In a rush she clipped her belt around her rounded hips and slid her daggers into their respective places all the while glancing back at Farkas sprawled on the bed. Here she was going to meet another man, and her hardly dry between the thighs.

Nayna debating whether Skjor was asking her to meet him there to take the blood herself, since she was going to be in the Circle or if he wanted to take her. She knew, no matter what, she'd be disappointed with the outcome. If he did offer the beastblood, she didn't know if she would take it. Didn't know if she wanted it. Kodlak and Vilkas said it was a curse, and she saw how much it tormented Vilkas, how angry he was with the world. Then again she saw how much Aela and Skjor loved it. Farkas didn't seem to care either way, but respected his brothers feelings on the matter. On the other hand, if it wasn't about the beastblood and he wanted to make love to her.....well the thought excited and aroused her. Making her skin flush in response to the imaginary feeling of Skjor's hands on her body. The whole time she had been with Farkas, she'd been thinking of Skjor's mouth, Skjor's hands, Skjor's body. Wondering what it would feel like with Skjor inside of her instead of Farkas.

Nayna was betraying Farkas by going to meet Skjor. But hell, every time she thought about Skjor...wasn't that betraying Farkas as well? Every time she imagined Skjor in Farkas's place.... She stared down at her lover of three months and seriously debated crawling back into bed with him. But then...Skjor would never forgive her. That was something she truly couldn't live with. So she leaned over and kissed Farkas on his brow. He snorted in his sleep and rolled over. Nayna left the room, pulling the door closed behind her as silently as she could.

The living quarters were empty, as was the mead hall itself to her relief. She slipped out the back doors and padded her way to the great rock of the Skyforge. No Skjor. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and waited.

Nearly an hour passed and she was getting irritated. It was cold and she stupidly hadn't thought to bring out her cloak. She rubbed her hands together and then tucked them under her arms. It wasn't like Skjor to keep her waiting. In fact, she was usually the one keeping him waiting. He was probably paying her back for all those times....

The door opened and Nayna pushed herself off the rock craning her neck. It was only Aela. Great. How was she going to explain this? She hoped Skjor didn't choose that moment to walk out the doors.

Aela was holding a torch, sending waves of light over the deck and tables. Her eyes met Nayna's and she smiled, heading her way.

"Nayna," Aela said as she passed, pushing on the rock wall, revealing a small entrance. Nayna supposed it was the Underforge. But what was Aela doing? Yep, there it was, the disappointment. It was the beastblood afterall.

The rocky door shut behind Aela and Nayna heaved a great sigh, leaning back against the wall again. After what felt like an eon, Skjor sauntered out of Jorrvaskr.

"Whelp," Skjor said, smiling fondly at her.

She squinted up at him. "You're late."

He chuckled. "Had to wait for Aela, whelp. Can't do this without her."

"Do what?"

"Don't act dumb, whelp."

She crossed her arms over her breasts and pursed her lips at him. He only grinned down at her and she sighed heavily, starting towards the entrance to the Underforge. Her disappointment lay over her like a heavy fog and she wasn't in the mood to play games with him.

Skjor pulled her from the rock and put his arms around her shoulders from behind, crushing her back against his chest. He wasn't wearing his normal wolf armor, instead dressed in a white shirt and brown trousers. The familiar silver medallion hung around his neck, it's coolness a sharp contrast to the heat rising from his chest. All thoughts of the cold and her anger were forgotten as the heat from his chest burned into her. A flush crept up her throat as his hot breath wafted over the sensitive skin on her neck. Excitement vibrated through her body causing her heart to slam against her ribcage and Skjor to hold her even tighter, more securely. She turned her face instinctively to Skjor's and she could smell the mead on his breath. His chin was perched on her shoulder.

"Are you ready, my whelp?" He growled in her ear.

"Ready for what?" She murmured, half hoping it was him and half dreading it wasn't.

His lips were so close to hers, if she leaned forward she could taste them. Just a taste wouldn't hurt her....His eye glimmered and she knew he was thinking the same thing. To hell with Aela and Farkas. At that moment there was only her and Skjor and she wanted it more than anything else in the world. And so did he.

One of his hands came up to toy with the end of her braid, rubbing the soft hairs over his fingers. His hand was dangerously close to her breast and she had to forcibly stop herself from arching into him.

"Nayna," he breathed into her ear and she shivered.

"Skjor," she whispered.

Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed hers. She reached behind her, cupping his face with her hand, pulling him in as she pressed her mouth hard against his. He growled and worked her lips apart, roughly shoving his tongue inside. Her groans escaped into his mouth, only stirring his ardor even more. She met his tongue with her own, twisting and swirling, tasting the mead he'd had earlier. Her toes curled in her boots as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring further. It was a completely different sort of kiss than the one they'd shared in Morthal four months ago. Before, he had been gentle and sweet. Now he was rough and he was taking what he wanted from her. And she was giving it freely, happily. It was nothing at all like kissing Farkas. It was better and her heart and soul surged with joy. There was no denying it anymore. She loved this man, would always love him.

His fingers dug into her arms and he spun her around, their lips breaking apart briefly. He encircled her waist with his strong arms and claimed her mouth for his own. Her knees were weak and her head spun, as if the mead on his tongue was making her drunk. She clung to him, afraid she would fall, afraid he would let her go, but he merely crushed her against his powerful chest. She could feel the thudding of his heart under the tips of her fingers and it aroused her almost more than his warm mouth.

This time it was Skjor who broke the kiss, pulling back ever so slightly. His face was still close to hers, his breath flitting over her cheeks. Her lips were still parted as she tilted her head to look up at him. She could read the pure unadulterated desire on his face and she wanted so much more then. His huge hands still held her waist securely, her front still pressed against his. She felt the delicious brush of his hardened groin against her belly and she instinctively leaned in. His chest scraped temptingly up against her breasts. Nayna was half afraid she would take him right there in front of the Skyforge.

She sighed contentedly. "Oh, Skjor...."

"You smell so good," he said, nuzzling her. "Like...flowers and....spices....and that shit you use in your hair."

Typical Skjor. She giggled all the same though, feeling drunk on him. She buried her face into his shoulder and inhaled deeply. The musky scents of leather and sword polish accented the deep earthy smell that she came to associate with the man himself.

"Whelp," he murmured into her hair.

"You're so drunk, Skjor."

"Hard not to be....."

She pulled her head from his shoulder and looked up at him.

"I can't stand the thought of another man being inside you. Touching you. Looking at you. So, yeah it's hard not to be drunk."

She felt her anger returning. He was such a hypocrite. She squared her jaw, and shoved him off her.

"And you think it's easy for me, knowing you're inside Aela?" Her voice was hoarse, but rising in pitch. She slapped his chest. "You don't think everyone can hear the two of you fucking each other? You think that's easy for me? Why do you think I went to High Hrothgar for a month? Why do you think I was driven into another mans arms? The man I wanted....he doesn't want me. He jerks me around....You are such an asshole."

She turned to stomp her way back into Jorrvaskr. He grabbed her arm, hard enough that she would be bruised in the morning. He whirled her around and slammed her body against his, crushing her mouth with his. The stubble on his chin scraped raggedly along her soft face, leaving rasping red marks behind. His hands wandered down to her backside and he held her firm against his groin. Almost involuntarily she opened her lips at the touch of his tongue and he invaded her mouth. Gods, she wanted this man more than anything. Her earlier protests fell out of her mind as she stroked her tongue along his, deepening their kiss.

He infuriated and fascinated her at the same time. He was a man full of paradoxes. Gentle, yet rough. Kind, yet cruel. Maddening, yet endearing. Often pushing her to the point of insanity and then pulling her back with just a smile or a few words.

"I want you to be my woman," he growled against her lips.

She froze. Was he asking her or merely telling her? She was still angry and her heart was still so confused. Farkas was a good man. He was considerate and sweet and mild. There was no doubt Skjor could be tender, and his sweetness was of a different sort than the naive sweetness of Farkas. But Skjor could also be amazingly harsh and demanding. He was intoxicating, thrilling, a boiling pot of emotions, always threatening to spill over. Skjor pushed every button in her heart, the good and bad and she was drawn to him, surely as he was drawn to the ever waxing moons.

He was an asshole, for sure and certain, but she was the same type of asshole. What he was doing to Aela was exactly what she was doing to Farkas. If Skjor asked her to leave Farkas, she knew she would in a heartbeat. Nayna only hoped Skjor would do the same for her.

Gods, she was so stupid. He was a hypocrite and she still loved him, regardless.

She didn't know why, but she let him push her through to the Underforge without a word of protest. Her mind felt so foggy with thoughts of his mouth and tongue.

Aela always seemed more Skjor's type. Independent and fiery. Though Nayna had her own type of fire, Aela's was less headstrong and more from the confidence she'd gained from experience. Her own, well Nayna still didn't know where her fire came from besides orneriness.

The Underforge was dimly lit and she blinked rapidly. When her eyes finally adjusted she saw Aela in beast form, standing next to a tall stone basin filled nearly to the brim with clear water. She turned to look at Skjor who was grinning his wolfish grin. His eye glimmered a shiny silver color, instead of the normal blue. The look on his face was almost....feral. Her Skjor was melting away giving into the beast in human form. How quickly he changed from desire to business.

His hand tightened along the curve of her back, not all of the desire gone."I would hope you recognize Aela, even as she is. She's agreed to be your forebearer."

Forebearer....She felt a little sad, she'd wanted Skjor to be the one to give her the blood, to bind her to him. His hand traveled down and cupped her backside, squeezing roughly. She turned to him questioningly, but he slid his hand back up her hip and to her waist.

Nayna's heart was racing when she looked back at Aela. The only way Nayna recognized her was by the reddish tint of the fur and the glow in her eyes. She took in the long sleek claws, the elongated neck and face. The fact that Aela was standing on her back legs. There was no mistaking the beast for a regular wolf. Nayna was so absorbed in studying Aela she nearly jumped out of her skin when Skjor cleared his throat behind her. He was still holding her close. Nayna's eyes flickered over to Aela, hoping she didn't notice Skjor's wandering fingers.

Nayna swiveled her head to look at him. "I thought you said I wasn't ready."

"You are nearly ready. But we will be here to guide you. Kodlak thinks you're ready for the inner-circle, but he does not want you to take the beastblood. We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed. But we've been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse? So we take matters into our own hands. To reach the heights of the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf."

Her head was swirling. When you have the beastblood you'll understand....Did she want to understand? His hands slid up her back and came to rest on her shoulders, digging in, almost pushing her along.

He leaned down and whispered seductively in her ear. "Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world, whelp?"

She shivered, looking into Aela's now golden eyes.

"What if..." she gnawed on her lip. "What if I don't want to?"

Skjor's hands traveled back down to her waist, drawing her in as he leaned in, his lips pressing against her ear, sending shivers up her spine. "That is your choice, whelp. But the power....it is a gift, unlike anything you've ever imagined."

Nayna stood, frozen, looking at Aela. Skjor nipped Nayna's ear with his teeth and let her go, fingers trailing across her shoulders. Her hips swayed in his direction, missing his touch. He walked over to Aela, drawing out his knife. He gripped Aela's large paw and grinned at Nayna. One slash and Aela's blood spilled into the watery basin before her. Skjor dipped a goblet in the bloody water, filling it to the brim.

Their eyes met and time seemed to freeze between the two of them. Skjor loved his beastblood. Loved it, adored it, cherished it. That blood was part of who he was, and unlike Kodlak, it was something that would never be wrested away from him.

She held his gaze, his words echoing in her mind. I want you to be my woman.....

He held out the shiny golden goblet and said "Well, whelp, what's it gonna be?"


	18. The Turning

The Whelp was darting through the fields of the farms just outside of Whiterun. The Alpha kept a careful watch for her. He was there to protect the integrity of the pack and to guide her through her first transformation. His human self lay far below, only surfacing occasionally at the familiar smells of the humans around them. It wasn't that the Alpha was feral, that he'd left his human self entirely behind, but the man was sleeping, only to be awoken sporadically. For now, he was the wolf.

Across the Pelegia farm, the sounds of scattering, panicking chickens reached his twitching ears. If the man had been awake, he would have laughed at the Whelp's pup-like antics. Instead he stood next to Aela-wolf, watching the dark brown fur appearing and disappearing behind the buildings and listening to the playful barks and the balking of the chickens.

There was a crunch and the end of one of the birds. The Alpha sauntered over to her and tilted his head as he watched her tossing the carcass in the air and jump to catch it. He uttered a snapping bark which stopped the Whelp in her tracks, dead bird hanging limply from her mouth. She bounded up to him, tail wagging and bumped him with her head. She smelled like Farkas-wolf, and a ripple of anger rose with his fur.

The human inside him stirred and thoughts and ideas popped into his head, disturbing the wolf. Of course it had always been so whenever he smelled the Whelp or even whenever he was close to her. Especially that night she and Vilkas-human nearly...But the wolf pushed the human back and took first bite of the bird, as was the Alpha's right. He stepped back and Aela-wolf came forward to take her share.

The Whelp wasn't paying attention, instead tilting her head up at the moons, tongue lolling from side to side as she swayed with the wind. He heard her inhale and she released a long, sharp howl that pierced the otherwise silent night.

They were too close to the humans for her to be howling in such a manner. Over the hills, he could hear a man and woman giggling and kissing, obviously too enamored with each other to notice anything else. The Whelp heard as well and before he could stop her, she was bounding off towards them, barking. He sprang after her and Aela-wolf darted after him.

The blonde woman looked up at the three of them racing towards her and screamed. The blond man pulled out his sword, pushing her behind him yelling at them. But the Alpha could taste their delicious fear. But they weren't the goal on this night. He jolted forward, knocking into the Whelp and sending her sprawling. Aela-wolf soared over the frightened couple and approached the Whelp from the far-side.

They herded her off towards the mountainside, leaving the humans and their stone homes behind. Of course the Whelp was hungry, desperate for flesh, desperate to feed. They all were. But tonight was not the night to delve into senseless desires. Not with the Whelp so newly imbibed with the blood. It was difficult enough to sway her away from the settlements. Anytime the Alpha or Aela-wolf weren't paying close enough attention, the Whelp turned right back to Whiterun. But the Alpha was there to guide her.

The Whelp stopped and tilted her head to the right, in the direction of Rorikstead. The Alpha was on high alert, as well as his human. She sprinted off, but Aela-wolf was ready and too fast for her. He came up behind her and growled, low in his throat, a warning to the Whelp. She turned to him and growled right back.

The Alpha leaped forward, taking the Whelp by surprise. She was knocked over, on to her back, and he was pinning her down. The soft flesh of her belly and throat lay exposed underneath him. The thumping of her tail sounded over the moans of the wind. A whine escaped her snout as she looked away submissively. But the Alpha knew better. She was feigning submission. He nipped her throat between his teeth, growling, making it known that he was in charge. She whimpered under him and licked his face.

The Alpha let her up, keeping a wary eye on her. Just as he had thought, she was indeed pretending. Off into the distant, starless night went the Whelp, with the Alpha and Aela-wolf following. And so it was for the rest of the night. Catching and releasing the Whelp, trying to control her before she went on a rampage. The wolf didn't know why it was so important to the man that she didn't feed on man-flesh. There had been other whelps, and they hadn't been nearly so cautious. But the Alpha continued to do the bidding of the man, just as he always had.

Near dawn, the Alpha and Aela-wolf caught up with the Whelp near the stream. She had collapsed on the bank of the river and her body was twisting and arching, returning to its human form. The Alpha was disappointed as the man took over, transforming with her.

Nayna lay panting at the water's edge, streaked with blood and mud, twigs and leaves adorning her hair like a forest crown. She was wearing nothing but her smallclothes. She would have to learn to transform her clothes with her. The previous Harbinger, before Kodlak, had been able to transform a full set of armor and weapons. Neither Aela or Skjor had even been able to do that.

Aela knelt by Nayna, stroking her arm. She looked up at Skjor and nodded. He tore off his shirt and tossed it to Aela, who helped dress Nayna. It was far too big on her, sliding off her shoulder, but it gave her the appearance of modesty, something that Skjor knew was important to her.

Her large dark eyes opened and she was looking up at him. Her fair face was soft and glowing, an after effect of the transformation. Her small mouth broke out into the sweetest smile, making his old warriors heart flutter. She had never looked more beautiful or appealing than she did that night. He gazed down at her until her eyelids grew heavy, masking the warm brown behind them.

 

When Nayna awoke, she found herself utterly alone with a splitting headache and a very sour stomach. She lay on her back with her face over her hands for a few beats, trying to beat back the floods of nausea rising in her throat. When she was sure she wouldn't empty the contents of her stomach all over herself, she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, keeping her eyes shut against the harsh glowing candles. She kept her face in her hands and her elbows on her knees.

Every few minutes she inched herself further off the bed, having to constantly stop and repeat the counting process. She was finally able to pry her eyes open and was hit by a wave of confusion. This wasn't the whelp room or Farkas's room. It was Skjor's room.

Oh Gods, what had she done? Her mind raced as she tried to recall the previous night. The kissing, the rough caresses, the wonderful security of his arms. Him telling her he wanted her to be his woman. Then going into the Underforge to meet Aela. And that was the last thing she recollected.

She was filled with panic. She had to get out of his room before someone caught her. Oh Gods. Tears were pooling in her eyes. Why did it have to be like this? Nayna wasn't that sort of girl. She didn't want to be a cheater. There was no way she could be with Farkas. It wasn't fair to him.

When she finally had the courage to lay her feet flat on the floor, she discovered she was nearly naked, save for an oversized dirty tunic that slipped off her shoulder and smelled like Skjor. And dirt, and blood and sweat and....she swore she could smell the bugs on the shirt. When she inhaled again, she smelled more than the bugs. The aroma of bacon frying, the scent of Njada's awful perfume, the familiar odor of burning wood. All of it as if it were happening in Skjor's room.

But the fire was upstairs...There were no fire pits or places in the living quarters. She must have been imagining things. But the more she inhaled, the deeper the smells were. Her stomach rolled again and she sat down heavily on Skjor's bed. She sat listening to her breath for a moment, but that was interrupted by a pair of voices down the hall.

"I'm tellin ya, Athis, you don't know what you're missing out on," Torvar was saying.

"Oh, I'm perfectly aware of what I'm missing out on," Athis sighed. "I have no desire to see you make an ass of yourself, yet again, because you're sure Olfina Grey-Mane is in love with you."

"Suit yourself," Torvar laughed and Nayna heard the door to the hall opening and closing.

Nayna closed her eyes and pressed her shaking fingers to her brow. Farkas had once told her that the sounds, the smells, everything was more powerful with the blood. The beastblood; she had taken it. Fuck. She hadn't the foggiest idea what to make of it. There was not a trace of memory left after Skjor held out that damnable goblet.

Her headache was starting to abate, allowing her to think more clearly, thank the gods. She lowered her hands and blew out a long breath, throwing her head back to look up at the ceiling. She could handle this. Even feeling as jumpy as she did, she could do this.

She picked at her fingernails, trying to analyze her thoughts, but the restlessness prevented her from digging too deep. The beast lay within her, shimmering under the surface, ready to spring into action at a moments notice. Her fire already ran hot, how would she control this....thing? Monster? Was she a monster? No, she wasn't a monster anymore than the rest of the Circle.

Thinking about the Circle made her think of Kodlak. Shit. He was going to be so, so angry with her. Even worse, he'd probably be disappointed. The mere thought of disappointing Kodlak sent shame quivering through her soul.

The door burst open, snapping her out of her brooding. She smelled Skjor an instant before she heard him and two beats before she saw him. He shut the door behind him and stood looking at her.

"How do you feel, Whelp?"

Her eyes were drawn to his bare, scarred chest with its thick, nearly dark hair, to the medallion of Hircine. The urge to lay her head against it was strong, but she resisted. Instead of gawking at his chest, she carefully kept her gaze on the token and pursed her lips.

"Why?" She asked.

He scowled. "What do you mean, why?"

Nayna wanted to be mad. Wanted to shout and rage at him for doing this to her. She wanted to hate him just as much as she loved him.

"Why would you do this to me?"

Skjor snorted. "It's a gift."

She felt confused for a moment and then started to laugh. They were talking about two different things. His brow only furrowed further down his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry, Skjor, I don't mean the blood. I always knew it would happen one day or another. Never really thought twice about it. I was talking about the things you said to me last night. Why would you do that to me?"

His face softened and he tilted his head to the side. After considering her for a moment he slunk over to her and dropped heavily on the bed beside her, the skin of his arm pressing against her exposed shoulder. She was glad she had already been trembling when he came in, lest he saw the state the casual touch put her in. "Whelp, I meant what I said. I want you to be my woman. I love you."

He was saying all the things her heart wanted to hear, in fact it was all jumbled as he spoke, skipping beats, pounding and fluttering at the same time. But her practical brain had to ruin the romance of the moment.

"And Aela and Farkas? What about them?"

"Nayna....Aela and I haven't been together for months. We parted ways shortly after you came back from High Hrothgar. I didn't tell you because you seemed happy with Farkas."

He reached over to brush a lock of hair from her forehead.

She bit her lips between her teeth, looking up into the dark blue of his eye. There was a long pause where neither of them said anything, only looked into each others eyes. She wanted to be his woman desperately. Wanted to come home to him at night, lie in his arms, laugh in the darkness over dumb jobs. All the things she did with Farkas, she wanted those with Skjor.

Farkas had never really had her heart. She had known Farkas wouldn't hurt her, so she went with him, bedded him, allowed him to fall for her. Farkas was safe and warm and frank. He was everything that Uthus hadn't been and Nayna had jumped on that. She'd wanted the company of a man, so bad she had been willing to settle and not open herself up. And it was coming back to bite her painfully in the ass.

Gods, she hadn't thought of Uthus in such a long time. She hated thinking about him, hated the man, but mostly she hated herself for allowing him to be such a big part of her. She had given so much away to him, her virginity included, that she had nothing left over when he abandoned her. He was everything Farkas was not. He'd left her bleeding, open, high and dry.

In her heart of hearts, she knew Skjor was nothing like that. But being with Skjor had higher stakes than being with Farkas ever did.

She had meant to tell him that she wanted to belong to him. Instead she whispered, "I can't."

"Stop shutting me out, woman. Gods be damned. I know you're scared. Everyone is scared. How can you love if you don't open yourself up to it?"

She bit her lip. "Loving people hurts, Skjor."

Skjor took one of her hands in his. "But it's also one of the best feelings in the world when you have it, Nayna. Let me love you. Let yourself love me. We can share that pain. Together we can take on the world. There is no one I'd rather have hunting at my side, until the end of my days."

He brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips to her fingertips. She closed her eyes. A leap of faith.

She nodded. "Yes."

His fingers curled around hers even tighter and she felt his lips smiling under her fingertips.

"I need to talk to Farkas first."

"Of course. But first, Kodlak is looking for you."

Her eyes flew open. He must have seen the fear in them, for he stroked her tangled hair back from her face. "He is not angry with you. He wants to make sure you're alright."

Suddenly her mind was whirling with so many questions. Things about the beastblood, things about him, things about them. She swallowed them down and said "I need clothes and a brush."

Skjor pointed over to his desk where a pair of her boots lay haphazardly under the desk and her clothes were folded neatly over the back of the chair. She smiled at him. "You think of everything don't you?"

He coughed. "No, that was Aela actually."

"Oh." She stood and crossed the room, dressing with her back to him, though she felt his gaze boring into her the whole time.

"So why aren't you my forebearer? Why Aela?" She asked as she sat down to pull her boots on.

"It's....hard to explain, whelp. When you become someones forebearer, it's almost like they become your....pup. You look after them, protect them, help them learn the calling of the blood...If I were your forebearer it would be..."

"Incestuous?" She grinned over at him and he laughed.

"Not quite like that, but a little.You never said how you felt, whelp."

She shrugged. Her stomach was still queasy, but tolerable. "Okay, I guess. What happened after I drank the blood?"

Skjor smiled fondly at her. "You did what all the new blooded whelps do. You played. You chased things. You terrorized people. You ran away from us. You gave us more trouble than Farkas did at his first turning."

She looked up at him in alarm. "I didn't eat anyone did I?"

Skjor laughed. "No, you tried, but no."

Trust him, she told herself. If he says you didn't eat anyone, you didn't. She finished tying her boots and stood. Skjor put his hand on the small of her back and together they went to see Kodlak.

Aela was already there, shifting from side to side. Nayna heard the scratching of Kodlak's quill, the rubbing of Aela's impatient toes, and Skjor's protesting stomach. Beyond the room she could hear the din of laughter above her, footfalls and two of her shield-siblings wrestling above her.

"What?" She gasped, realizing Kodlak had spoken to her.

Behind her Aela and Skjor chuckled a little.

Skjor cleared his throat. "She's just not used to everything yet."

Kodlak frowned. "No I suppose not. Please, lass, have a seat. And how do you feel?"

"I felt like someone slipped me a drink," she joked as Kodlak helped her ease into the chair across from him.

Kodlak sighed. "Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. Do you remember anything from last night, girl?"

Nayna shook her head from side to side, instantly regretting it as the lingering dizziness whizzed about her head. She propped her elbow on the table and rested her forehead in her hand. "Not really. Only." She glanced at Skjor from the corner of her eye. "Only the Underforge."

"I never intended for you to take the blood, Nayna," Kodlak said, his voice shifting from angry to soft and sad.

"But she chose to take the beastblood," Skjor jumped in.

"Yes, I see that. Why is it you decided to give her the beastblood behind my back, after I expressly forbade it?"

"Because it's not some curse to be thrown away. It's tradition—"

"--boy, you overreach yourself. It was not always tradition as you know."

"We gave her the choice," Aela said. "We did not force it upon her."

"Regardless--"

"--Kodlak, I wanted it. It was my choice. I'm glad I had the choice. Now I understand."

"Nayna..."

"No, how can I appreciate any stance on the blood if I haven't had it myself? I couldn't form a true opinion either way."

Kodlak sighed. "I know what you are saying, but I wanted you to be spared."

She slid her hand across the table, laying it atop Kodlak's."I didn't want that. Kodlak, just as much as it is for you to seek a cure, it is very much my choice to do this. This is truly what it's all about. Choices. I wouldn't take it away from Aela or Skjor anymore than I would make you, Vilkas or Farkas live with it, if I had the power over such things. You are my family, the only true family I've ever had. How can I be a part of this family if I can't share the burdens? Or if I can't reap the rewards?"

Kodlak cupped her cheek with his other hand. "Your heart is big and I appreciate that. I feel as if your intentions are misguided, but I welcome you into the Circle anyway. Now you should go rest."

Her heart pumped victoriously as he mentioned the Circle. She stood, Skjor grasping her elbow, but she shook him off. "I'm not tired, but I know a dismissal when I hear one. I'm going into the yard. Thank you Kodlak."

He smiled fondly at her. "Shut the door as you leave, girl."

She sauntered up the hall of the living quarters, her heart feeling lighter than it ever had. Behind her she heard Kodlak admonishing Skjor and Aela for their secretive behavior.

She shared the blood and now she was eager to test it out.


	19. The Horn

Early the next morning, she headed out to the training grounds. The sky glowed a bright, brilliant pink, and the sun hadn't peeked over the mountain yet.

Her sleep had been restless, the beast apparently having awoken her past nightmares. Months had passed since she'd thought about Helgen or even dreamed about it. The dream hadn't been too bad, but she was more disturbed by its sudden reappearance.

She shivered as the wind blew over her, carrying with it the scent of thistle growing on the hill and hints of steam from Honningbrew Meadry. Would she ever get used to her new senses? It had taken her forever to fall asleep because she could hear the dripping of the bacon fat from the kitchens, the irritating sound of Torvar rubbing his toes together, someone coughing upstairs, and Njada flicking the pages of her book. To be frank, she was a tad overwhelmed by it all. Skjor and Aela had both assured her that not only would she get used to it, but she'd learn to rely on it and use it to her advantage.

Nayna begged to join Skjor and Aela in their hunt last night, but they insisted she needed her rest, and had gone off together instead. She had watched them jealously, walking out the gates together, laughing and joking, as if they had never been anything but old friends. Skjor must have felt the same whenever she was with Farkas. She'd have to end it with Farkas, and soon, as much as she didn't want to. It wasn't that she didn't want to end it as much as she wished she could just run and hide and make it go away instead.

She sighed, reaching her arms upward in a long, graceful arc. When she heard her back snap and crackle she lowered her arms, bending at the waist to touch her toes. After her stretches were finished she padded her way over to the wall and rested her elbows on top of it, looking out into the vast expanse of Whiterun Hold.

She had repeatedly told herself that he wouldn't do anything with Aela, that they weren't together, but her mind ran rampant for a while, imagining them touching and kissing. It set her teeth on edge and the beast within growled. The nearby guard had handed her a handkerchief, saying "Bless you, Dragonborn."

After that she had resigned herself to bed, blatantly ignoring Farkas when he'd come into the whelp room looking for her. She childishly pretended to be asleep, even as he stroked her hair and breathed her name, in such a mournful tone, it almost hurt her heart. He eventually left and she was alone to stew and brood in peace.

That's when the dream had come. And gone. And come again. No matter how many times she tried to block the large black beast from her mind, he always flew across the sky, enormous black wings covering the sky, shielding the sun until the day was as dark as night.

The only thing she could think of that the dream symbolized was the end of the world. But then again, it was only a dream.

The doors to Jorrvaskr opened behind her. It wasn't Skjor, like she'd hoped, but Farkas. Dread settled in her belly, the emptiness making her feel tinny on the inside.

"Nay." His voice was low and mild as he came to stand beside her.

She inclined her head. "Farkas."

He said nothing, simply standing beside her, staring out into the misty morning.

She wondered where Skjor and Aela were, and (felt sad that she couldn't be there with them). She longed to be near Skjor, so bad it hurt. She didn't know if that was her wanting him or the beast within....

"Did you ever make it to Riverwood?"

She winced. "No. I didn't. Just add that to the long list of things I've been avoiding."

"You really should go, Nayna. Maybe you're the only one who can figure out all this dragon stuff."

She sighed. It was a burden she felt was too heavy to bear. She didn't want it. "Maybe."

Nayna cupped her chin with her hand and rested her elbow on the wall.

"It's not working, is it?"

She started and looked up at Farkas, into those mournful blue eyes. She couldn't lie to him, even to spare his feelings. "No, it's not."

Farkas nodded. "It's you and Skjor. It's always been you and Skjor. Aela and I, we were always kind of in your way."

"No, Farkas, you were never in my way. You showed me what true kindness is. I needed that. But I can't give you what you need. And you deserve to be happy because you are so gentle."

He sighed and leaned over the wall, looking down. "I've been feeling this way for a month or so now, even before you took the blood."

Nayna nodded. "Aye."

She couldn't tell him she'd had regrets the night after they'd first made love. She'd tried her best to squash them down, but they'd always reappeared.

"I'm sorry." Her voice barely wavered above a whisper, lingering in the wind. If he hadn't had the blood, he would have never heard it.

Farkas reached out and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't be."

She almost snorted. Here she was, breaking his heart and he was the one comforting her.

She looked down at her clasped hands, and leaned on her elbows, looking over the wall. It was one of her favorite spots to....well, to brood as Skjor put it.

When Farkas finally left her, she stared out to the mountainside. Riverwood was just behind the mountain, less than a days walk. If she left now she could be there in about four and a half hours. There was still plenty of daylight left. But she didn't want to go alone....Skjor. She'd take Skjor with her.

Her first Circle meeting wasn't until the next day, so she had the entire day free to do as she pleased. But Farkas was right.

And the claw. How in the....She couldn't believe she'd forgotten the claw. Oy, she was losing her mind these past few years.

She approached Skjor. "Heil."

He looked up from his breakfast. "Heil."

"I have errands in Riverwood. I could use a shield-brother." She said, resting her hip against the table with her head tilted to the side.

"Sure."

They walked silently through Whiterun, side by side, his arm brushing against hers occasionally, sending flutters into her heart. She smiled, still staring straight ahead.

They were quiet as they trampled through the farms. Severio Pelegia waved at them and they waved back.

"Damn wolves," he said. "Lost another chicken to them this morning. They're getting to be too bold."

Behind her she heard Skjor stifle a snicker, while she grimaced. "Sorry to hear that Severio. We'll keep our eyes out for your wolf."

"Thanks, that's much appreciated, Nayna. You know Jon Battle-born said two nights past he saw what he swore were werewolves."

"Did he now?" Nayna asked, her heel connecting hard with Skjor's shin as he snorted. "Sorry, Skjor. Anyway, that's interesting. I don't think they come too near to human settlements though...."

"I don't know about all that. Did you hear about the little girl in Falkreath?"

Nayna shook her head.

Severio leaned forward. "Said a werewolf came in and tore a little girl apart. There wasn't enough left of her to bury."

Nayna froze, horrified. Skjor put a comforting hand on her waist.

"It was good seeing you Severio, however, official Companion business, if you'll excuse us," Skjor said, with a nod to him as he steered Nayna away.

"Don't worry about it, whelp," Skjor murmured in her ear. "That only happens if you go feral and let the beast take over."

"I...."

"You'll learn. And that's not you," Skjor said, gripping her shoulders and looking down into her eyes. "And I would never let that happen, whelp."

Trust him, came the little voice again. So she nodded, meaning to keep to herself for the rest of the trip, but Skjor handed her a flaming red and gold flower. Dragon's Tongue. She smiled despite herself and he tucked it in her hair.

"Dragon's Tongue for the Dragonborn."

She wrinkled her nose at him, but he merely laughed.

They walked in silence, Skjor's arm occasionally brushing hers purposefully. Each time, her heart thudded wonderfully in her chest and Skjor's lip would curl in a half smile.

They stopped to rest. Nayna sitting on the grass, stretching her legs out. Skjor lay beside her and lowered his head in her lap.

"Did you speak with Farkas?"

She absentmindedly stroked his forehead."Aye."

"And?"

"And I'm your woman now, if you'll still have me."

She saw his eye light up and her lip curled into a soft smile.

He reached up and tugged on her braid. "Will you have me?"

"Aye. But first....Can we wait? Or be discreet? I want to give him a month, maybe two. He's already so hurt...."

Skjor frowned. "I suppose, but I don't much like the idea of it. We've waited too long. I've waited too long."

"Thank you."

Nayna bent her head down and kissed him. It was the first time she initiated any sort of physical affection with him. His eyes fluttered closed as he returned her kiss. One of his hands gripped the back of her neck, while the other threaded through her fingers. So much for discretion.

She pulled her face back and he growled at her. "Damnit, whelp. Don't tell me you want to wait and then kiss me like that."

She giggled as his lips stroked her jaw. "Sorry, Sk—love."

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Say it again."

"My love."

As always, Nayna was the first to pull away. "We should get going, love."

He nodded. "Yeah."

It took them a total five hours to reach Riverwood, including their little interlude. The sun was high in the sky and Nayna's stomach rumbled. Her rubbed her hand over her belly and looked longingly at the Inn.

Skjor turned to her. "What business do you have here?"

She rifled through her pack and handed him the letter. He read over it and sighed. "Nayna! Didn't you and Farkas do this over six months ago?"

"Yeah, I know, I know. But I also have something to return, that I should have returned a year and a half ago. And a friend I need to see. And we have a room to rent..."

Skjor closed his eyes, gathering his patience. "Lead on."

She pushed her way into the merchants shop. Lucan....that was his name. He stood behind the counter.

"Can I help you?"

He didn't recognize her. Ah well, that was just as well. She reached into her pack and pulled out the claw. "I believe this belongs to you."

His eyes lit up. "You found it! Hah, it looks a lot smaller than I remembered....Well thank you. I don't even know how you knew I needed it."

Nayna rocked back and forth on her heels. "Well, you sent me to fetch it a few years ago...."

He squinted at her. "I thought you looked familiar. Ah well! Thank you. Here..."

He started to hand her a bag of coin, but she shook her head. "No, no. I couldn't...."

"No, it's fine! I appreciate it. Please, just take it."

Nayna hesitated so long that Skjor reached over her and snatched the bag from Lucan's hand. She turned to glare at him, but he gave her a half smile and nodded to the merchant. He walked out the door.

She bid farewell to Lucan and followed Skjor.

"What was that about?"

"You and your false modesty. Next time just take the damn gold, whelp."

She squinted up at him. "There's more to life than money, Skjor."

"Says someone who grew up in the lap of luxury."

She stopped and raised her eyebrows at him."Is that what you think?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you not?"

"After I was 7, aye. Before then we were poor as poor could be. If I could have chosen my life's path, I would take poverty over wealth."

Skjor snorted, but Nayna went on. "You can be full with coin, but that doesn't necessarily mean your heart and soul aren't hungry. I would have given up all that money to be with my mother and not be taken away from her.....but then again maybe not. It's not like she wanted me either. I guess you could say she traded me in for a more comfortable life."

Skjor reached out to touch her, but she brushed him off.

"Go wait for me at the Inn. I need to see a friend before I join you."

She left Skjor standing in the middle of Riverwood, sighing. She made her way over to the lumber mill, picking over fallen wood, but neither Gerdur nor her husband were at the mill, so she went to their house. She raised her hand to knock on the door when it opened, startling her as a large, hairy dog ran out, followed by a little blond boy.

"Frodnar!" Gerdur yelled. "Your chores....That child....Nayna!"

Nayna waved awkwardly at Gerdur. "Heil."

"Heil! It's been so long! Come in, friend."

Nayna stepped in, hovering at the threshold."How's Ralof?"

Gerdur shrugged, and guided her to the table. "Who knows? He left shortly after you did to follow Ulfric."

"Oh good, I'm glad. He seemed keen to get back to the Jarl."

"Jarl?" Gerdur smiled at her knowingly as she set a few cups on the table.

"Oh, I just....I'm a Companion now and we don't take sides in the war...."

Gerdur's face lit up. "A Companion? That's an honor. Ralof said you fought like the devil."

Nayna chewed her lip and shrugged.

"What brings you to Riverwood?" Gerdur asked. She poured Nayna and then herself some tea. "Sugar? Milk?"

Nayna chuckled and shook her head. "Neither, thank you. Anyway, I'd forgotten until yesterday that I still had Lucan's damned claw. I wanted to return it to him."

Gerdur smiled. "I bet he was grateful. He's been complaining about that claw for nigh on a year now. You've given us all peace and quiet."

"Aye, well," Nayna said nervously smoothing her legs over her thighs. "I also wanted to pay you back for everything, Gerdur. I know Ralof and I put you in danger last time we were here..."

"Nonsense. I told you before any friend of my brothers is a friend of mine. You saved his life and brought my brother home to me. I will forever be in your debt, Nayna." Gerdur smiled warmly at her, covering Nayna's hand with her own.

"I should get back to the Inn. I have a friend waiting for me there." Nayna said, standing up. Gerdur followed suit and reached to embrace her.

"Thank you for all you've done. Nayna, it was good to see you again....."

Nayna patted Gerdurs back a few times before letting go. "Goodbye."

"May you die with a sword in your hand, friend."

Nayna grimaced inwardly, but smiled anyway. She made her way to the Inn, where Skjor was sitting, eating a plate of eggs and drinking mead.

"I didn't rent the room yet," he said pointedly. Nayna nodded and sifted through her satchel for her coinpurse. She plopped the satchel down on the bench next to Skjor and approached the bar with the coin in her hand.

A big black haired Nord was busy sweeping. She leaned on the bar and rapped her knuckles on the rotting wood. The man looked up at her, squinting. "Yeah?"

"I need to rent a room."

"Talk to Delphine," he grunted and pointed to a small blonde Breton woman in the corner.

"Ookay," Nayna said, pushing herself off the bar.

The woman glared at her as Nayna picked her way over. Sven the bard growled at Nayna. "You're nothing but trouble."

She heard Skjor shift, and the sword in his scabbard scuffed threateningly. Nayna pointedly ignored him and turned to the woman who spoke first.

"We don't get many visitors here in Riverwood. What brings you here?"

Nayna shook her head. "I just need to rent the attic room."

Delphine's eyes narrowed for just a moment and Nayna was hit with a jolt of recognition that was equally mirrored in Delphine's expression.

"Well, we don't have an attic room, but you can have the one on the left."

What the fuck? The note clearly said to rent the attic room.

"Are you sure--"

"--I would think I know my own Inn. The one on the left is yours. Now if you'll excuse me."

Delphine bustled off, leaving Nayna standing there speechless. Skjor's footsteps thumped behind her.

"What was that about, whelp?"

She clenched her teeth. "There is no attic room. We have a room on the left."

Skjor placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and stomped off into the room. He followed her and tossed her satchel on the bed.

"Now what, whelp?"

She cracked her knuckles as she paced the room. "I know that woman. Remember the errand I ran for Farengar a few years ago?"

Skjor sat on the bed, watching her."You mentioned it. Nayna--"

Nayna nodded. "--That bitch was there when I gave him the Dragonstone. I wish I had asked her what it was for."

"Bitch is a rather cold term, isn't it, Dragonborn?"

Nayna's head shot up to find Delphine in the doorway. Skjor shook his head at her, but said nothing, surveying Delphine.

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk. But first, I think this is what you were looking for, Dragonborn."

She held out the horn. Nayna clenched her fists, ready to sock the woman in the face, but Skjor cleared his throat warningly at her. She reached a trembling hand out to Delphine and snatched the horn away.

"Not even a thank you?"

"Why should I thank you for stealing the horn?"

"Oh, who's the thief now? Wandering around in ancient crypts you don't belong in."

Nayna lifted her chin and sniffed. "The Greybeards sent me. So aye, I did belong there. You did not and even worse you used trickery to lure me here."

Delphine snorted. "It was the only way. Listen, we still need to talk. Follow me."

"Oh, there is no way in Oblivion that I'm going anywhere with you. Stuff it up your ass."

Nayna stalked over to the bed and stuffed the horn into her satchel and threw it over her shoulder. "Come on, Skjor. I've had enough of this shit."

"Dragonborn, wait."

Nayna turned, eye to eye with Delphine. "Don't call me that."

She moved away from the woman, who called after her. "Come back when you grow a spine."

"Fuck you."

She was halfway out of Riverwood before Skjor caught up with her. She threw her hand up before he could touch her. His hand slapped against his thigh, but he kept walking close behind her. They said nothing on the way home.

She barreled on, arriving in Whiterun in three and a half hours instead of the five it took them before. The sun was lowering itself in the sky, and the plains district was quiet, the stalls empty. The only commotion that could be heard came from the Bannered Mare. Inside, there was laughter and roaring and a general gaiety she did not share. It was tempting to barge in and yell at the people, but she resisted, instead turning to the wind district, where she stomped up the steps to Jorrvaskr, pushing her way through Athis and Torvar.

"Hey! Watch it, sister," Torvar slurred.

Nayna turned and stared at him until he backed away. Skjor stood at the bottom of the stairs, hand covering the grin on his mouth.

"No need to be a bitch, Nayna," Athis said.

She squinted at him. "Suck my dick."

Skjor snorted, but Nayna ignored him and stormed into Jorrvaskr, leaving Athis and Torvar with dumb expressions on their faces.

Later that evening, the Circle all gathered in Kodlak's rooms. Nayna sat in a chair in the far corner, listening to the sounds of Vilkas and Skjor arguing echoing through her head. It was her first meeting as a member of the Circle and she wasn't paying a lick of attention.

Aela sat on her right, arms crossed and one leg delicately folded atop the other. She rolled her eyes at Skjor and Vilkas, shaking her head, her flaming hair dancing in the candlelight. She glanced at Nayna, her eyes the color of grass, with a hint of the gold that peppered the plains of Whiterun. They reminded Nayna of why she was there in the first place.

"You are unbelievable," Vilkas snarled, breaking into her thoughts. The shadow of the wolf shaded his face.

Skjor was calmly looking at Vilkas, arms crossed, brows raised. "It wasn't your call."

"It wasn't yours either."

Vilkas turned to glare at her. "And I expected better from you! From you!"

She squinted up at him. "I don't need to answer anything to you, Vilkas. This is between myself, Skjor and Kodlak."

She saw a glimmer of pride in Skjor's eye, and she half curled her lip at him before turning back to glare at Vilkas. He wanted to out her to Skjor, but since Kodlak had asked them to keep their search to themselves, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. She flashed a smirk in Vilkas's direction, enjoying his seething temper tantrum.

"You're a hypocrite."

"Hey!" Skjor said, advancing on Vilkas.

"Enough." Kodlak's voice was soft, but firm. Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

"It matters not now. What is done, is done and there is no going back." He sighed and heaved himself to his feet, coming to stand in the middle of the room, looking down at Nayna with a kind smile. "I've called this meeting to welcome our newest sister to the Circle."

Nayna flushed at being the center of attention. She was used to talking to everyone in the room individually or maybe a small group, but everyone's eyes on her made her feel small. The beast inside of her feel threatened and it took all her power to quell the beast and not run away. She bowed her head.

"Born of the darkest of our days, the Circle represents everything the Companions stand for. Honor. Love. Glory. Compassion. In the second era, Kynril Long-Nose saw the corrupt Harbingers and valiantly invaded Jorrvaskr, bringing an end to the nefarious reign of those who sought to dishonor and defame our order. The Circle is the current manifestation of Ysgramor's council of captains. We seek to light the path for the younger, fresher Companions.....May you bring honor and glory to us for the rest of your days, Nayna. I hereby name you member of the Circle."

All around her the rest of the Circle said in unison "And it shall be so."

Kodlak nodded a dismissal to all of them. Nayna stood up and Kodlak walked forward.

He pecked her swiftly on the cheek. "Congratulations, lass."

She smiled up at him. "Thank you."

Farkas smiled awkwardly.."Congratulations, sister." He kissed her cheek and stepped away. Nayna froze, standing like a statue. Was everyone going to bombard her?

Vilkas stepped in her way.

"Congratulations, sister," he grunted and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Lastly was Aela who surprisingly embraced her and then kissed her. "Congratulations, sister."

And then it was Skjor's turn. Nayna tilted her head to look up at Skjor. He was grinning at her, an unsettling grin with too many teeth that set her wolf on edge.

She looked away, but he tipped her chin up with his forefinger, his eye searching her face. "Congratulations.......whelp."

She smiled softly, heart fluttering at his enunciation of his pet name for her. Then she flushed red knowing everyone in the room could hear her heart. Gods damnit.

He bent down and much to Nayna's bewilderment, he pressed his lips lightly to hers. For a brief moment, Nayna could feel and taste their hearts beating on the same rhythm. Part of her felt horrified that the rest of the Circle could hear the same, and that they were watching. And part of her hoped the kiss would never end. It was a light, friendly kiss, but he lingered just a little too long.

It's not like they were doing anything wrong....were they?


	20. Together

Nayna walked around her new room, running her fingers over the fur coverlet, the feather-filled pillows. Instead of one small, lumpy bed, she now possessed a cushiony bed large enough for two. Now she had a wardrobe to hang her plainclothes in, and a mannequin to hang her newly forged Companions armor. There was a case for her bow and her knives and whatever other valuables she picked up on her travels. A small table nestled in the far corner, allowing for her to take breakfast in her room or answer whatever letters came her way.

There was so much more to being in the Circle than she ever imagined. Nayna had thought it would be handing out jobs, taking a few for herself and spending the rest of her days training or lounging about. How silly she was. Kodlak decided since she was Thane of Whiterun anyway, she should be the one to meet with Jarl Balgruuf once a week, instead of him. Nayna feared the rot was only worsening. Kodlak hardly ever left his rooms. It pained her to report back to him, seeing the longing in his eyes. But he smiled at her just the same as he always had. Then there were the meetings of the Circle, where Skjor and Vilkas argued about the blood. She still hadn't told Skjor what they were doing.

It had been a month since she'd taken the blood. And since then, even though she was kept fairly busy, she was still restless. It was like she never could sit still. She was always bouncing her knee under the Jarl's table, or drumming her fingers on her thighs during Circle meetings, or tapping her feet during meals. She was finally able to tune out some of her senses, only zoning in on important things, but they were still there when she called upon them. Currently, she could hear Vilkas snoring lowly in his room and Farkas muttering in his sleep.

Skjor had been busy running jobs and dispensing them over the last month. At night it was only her and Aela running under the moons. The more she transformed, the more in tune she became with the wolf. There was nothing better than sprinting across the plains, feeling the wind blow in her fur. The only thing that would have made it better was Skjor's presence.

She barely slept anymore, and when she did it was all dreams of hellfire and Helgen. The nightmares had disappeared for a time, but after she had taken the beastblood, they had come back in full force. Over and over she felt her face on the chopping block, felt the warm blood oozing under her cheek, felt the leg of the dead Stormcloak pressed against her thigh. The sound of the black dragon roared through her head, echoing across her mind. The fire would consume her, over and over again.

She was exhausted and frustrated and invigorated all at the same time, hence the agitated pacing around her room. All evening she had tried to sit to answer letters for Kodlak, but she couldn't concentrate. Gods, she missed Skjor. She always felt calmer when he was around.

Finally Nayna got tired of wandering through her room. She heaved a great sigh and slipped out of her clothes, setting them neatly on the seat of one of the chairs. She crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe, smiling at the clothes and nightdresses inside. Ever since she'd left Daggerfall she'd been bereft of nice clothes. She wanted to feel like a fucking lady.

Nayna chose her prettiest nightgown, one she had made when she and Farkas were still together. It was a white, soft, silky thing with an empire waist, emphasizing her bosom. The sleeves were flowy, but not puffy, ending at her elbows. It was trimmed with blue satin ribbon that tied in the back. The rest of the gown just flowed over her body. It was silly, but she nearly felt beautiful in it.

After donning the nightdress, she pulled back the covers and slipped into bed, blowing out the candle on the way. For the next few hours she tossed and turned, never quite falling into sleep, but not quite awake either.

"Let's get on with it, I haven't got all morning."

Nayna froze. She'd heard those words nearly two years ago. Eighteen months to be exact. She forced her eyes open and to her horror she was standing in front of the tower at Helgen. Ralof stood to her right, while fucking Ulfric Stormcloak stood in front of the group of soldiers, gagged and bound, while General Asshole Tullis stared him down. But Ulfric was looking sadly at the man kneeling on the block.

She turned her head as the axe came down with a thunk and the head fell into the basket. Oh gods, they were going to call her next. Panic edged its way up her body, her heart racing, skin prickling in goosebumps. The urge to vomit lay just under the surface. She didn't belong there! She'd just been crossing from Cyrodiil to Skyrim. She wanted to beg and plead, but she couldn't find her voice.

Her voice! The thu'um! But it didn't work and despair draped over her shoulders, causing her to droop and sag into the ground as the captain called out "Next, the Breton!"

"Nice and easy, prisoner," Hadvar murmured.

No, no, no. She looked wildly to her right and Ralof smiled at her sadly, he gestured with his head and she took a shaky step forward. And then another. And another. Until she stood over the dead Stormcloak's body. The Captain put a boot to her back, forcing her on her knees. She wanted to shout, to sob, to say something, but nothing came out.

She lazy her head on the bloody block, stomach rolling at the sticky warmth beneath her cheek. A single tear slid down her face. She was too young to die. She'd never even gotten to see her mother again.....

The axe rose high in the air, but Nayna was determined to keep her eyes open, to welcome Death as it came to claim her. She couldn't be cowardly, lest Sovngarde reject her. A loud roar sent the executioner stumbling backwards.

"It's nothing, carry on," snapped General Tullis.

She watched as the axe came arcing down, curling her toes in the rags she wore, bracing herself for the pain and impact. But the roar came again, followed by big black wings in the sky. The world-eater...

The dragon shouted and the executioner fell to the ground, dead.

Hands were pulling her up and she was crying and sobbing. Pounding on his chest.

"Whelp, whelp," Came a familiar voice in her ears.

Her eyes snapped open and her vision was filled with Skjor's face.....only Skjor, not the World-Eater, not Ralof and not fucking Ulfric Stormcloak. Nayna sobbed and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. She hadn't realized how terribly she was quaking until she was pressed against Skjor's steady form with his huge, strong arms wrapped snugly around her.

"Shhhh, whelp. You're safe, I'm here." He had pulled her into his lap and was stroking her hair, comforting her like a child.

She hiccuped, taking in short gasping breaths. It took nearly a half hour for her to calm down, but Skjor was patient, just holding her as tightly as she needed, his lips occasionally brushing against her forehead, her hair, her brow.

She finally slackened her arms and pushed away from him, raising a shaky hand to her face, using the heel to wipe the tears from her eyes. Skjor tucked wayward pieces of her hair behind her ear.

"Helgen?"

She nodded, closing her eyes, but regretting it as she was only able to see death and despair.

"You're safe here. I won't let anything ever happen to you."

Nayna open her eyes and smiled a little at him. "I know, just....every time I see a dragon, I think of...that..."

She hadn't realized it before, but he was dressed in full armor, his sword and shield resting on the table. "Did you just get back."

"Mmhmm, I heard you in the hall...."

She flushed, but Skjor leaned down to kiss her brow.

He tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, whelp."

This was the closest they had been in a month. Part of it was because they were both so busy, only able to steal kisses or caresses here and there, and part of it was because she wanted to be respectful of Farkas and his pain. Skjor wasn't a patient man, but he respected her wishes all the same. But tonight it wasn't about Farkas, it was about her and her pain. She needed to soothe her aching soul and Skjor was the only salve.

"Can you get me a glass of water?"

"Mind if I light a candle first?"

"Here," she said, lighting it for him with magic. He frowned at her, but said nothing. She flushed again, but his back was already turned, pouring her a cool tankard. He crossed back to the bed and slipped the mug in her hands, appraising her.

"Pretty," he said, referring to her nightdress.

"Thanks."

"Is it new?"

"Aye," she lied, sipping her water.

"I like it."

"So I noticed," she joked, the water making her feel more normal. Well as normal as she could feel with the beast raging inside of her. Wanting to tear Skjor apart. Rip off his armor and his clothing, press his naked body to hers, sate their primal lust and then hunt for man flesh....

"What?" She gasped.

"You seem on edge," He said, putting his hands on his hips.

"Hard not to be anymore." She placed the tankard on the nightstand and sat back, with the blankets pooling around her crossed legs.

She watched his chest rising and falling, listened to the bumping of his heart and the shifting of his feet in his dark leather boots. When she looked at his face, his brow wrinkled, and his lips pursed, she wanted nothing more than to kiss his worries away, just as he had done for her but a moment before.

He nodded knowingly. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Aye, thank you, my love."

He leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth. A quick kiss, not a peck but not a deep kiss either. "I'm going to bed then. Come get me if you need me."

He turned to leave, but she caught his wrist. He swayed back and raised his brow. She didn't want to be alone. She wanted to forget the nightmare. And she wanted him. It had been enough time. Now she needed him.

"Stay with me tonight," she murmured, kissing his pulse, feeling it quicken under her lips.

"You sure?" His thumb traced her lower lip. She saw the flare of desire in his eye.

Her lips spread into a nefarious grin. "Aye, I am."

He yanked her to her feet, his hands sliding down her back, to her waist, pulling her in. She tilted her head, raising on her tip-toes to greet his lips with her own with a long, leisurely, slowness that only intensified the growing ache for him. The stubble on his chin grazed across the soft skin of her face, once again leaving a trail of redness in its wake. Their last few kisses had been wrought with hunger and need, rough and hard, knowing they only had moments. Now they had all the time in the world, and she wanted to savor the feel of his loving touch. The beast had other ideas, though.

This time he didn't need to work her lips apart, they already opened for him. When his tongue slipped through, she tasted the blood and flesh. The wolf inside her growled, pushing her closer to him. She was nearly surprised to hear him growl in return, but she shouldn't have been. It was only his wolf responding to hers.

The human side of her wanted to take it slow, but the beast made it nearly impossible. She was caught up in the same desire to run, hunt, feed and mate that the wolf dragged her through every time she transformed. Nayna couldn't tell if the fire that ran through her was because of the wolf or because of the heat Skjor sent rippling through her body.

His hands traveled down the small of her back to her rump, where he grasped two adequate handfuls, squeezing and trying to crush her hips against his.

"Fuck," he said into her mouth.

She gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Mm?"

"Fucking armor."

Nayna smiled. "Let me help you with that, love."

Together they worked the straps and buckles of his armor.

"You know," he grunted, unbuckling his belt and tossing it on the table, atop of his sword and shield. The coins in his purse clinked together. "I used to hate it when you called Farkas that."

"What?" She asked as she pulled the chest plate over his head.

"Love."

She took his armor to lay it on the dresser. "That must have been painful for you."

"Yeah, it was. But hearing you call me love now, makes all the pain worth it."

Nayna laughed. "You're so full of shit, Skjor."

Inwardly she winced, realizing how it sounded. But when she turned back to Skjor he was grinning at her, his chest bare, save for the token of Hircine. Looking at his bare chest, the urge to jump him, shove him on the table and ravage him nearly overwhelmed her. His lips curled into a sensual grin. "All for you, whelp."

She swept over to him, kneeling on the floor to unlace his boots. The bulge in his trousers was eye level, and very tempting. Instead, she leaned her head, this way and that, teasing him. He couldn't keep his hands off of her, running them through her tangled hair, over her forehead, her temples. She reached for his hands and he pulled her up, kicking off his boots.

He captured her mouth again and the heat radiated through the two of them like a storm. They crashed into the bed, with her straddling him, holding him down, pinning his arms on either side of his head. She was ready to devour him, the urge for long languid lovemaking gone, replaced by the frenzied need to mate.

Nayna thought it would be different. Thought she would hold back, just like she had done with Farkas. But with Skjor, she couldn't. It was all or nothing. And she wanted it all. Maybe it was her, and maybe it was the beast underneath. She would never know.

The urgent brush of his groin came in contact with her backside, and with every wiggle or squirm he growled at her.

"Don't tease me. You'll regret it." Skjor growled, nipping at her lower lip, tugging on it with his teeth and letting it snap back.

She only centered herself more, and he grunted, shaking his head. "That's it, whelp."

And he overpowered her easily, rolling her on her back, laying atop her, smoothing kisses along the sensitive skin of her neck. Tiny shrieks emitted from her mouth, as she tried to press her ear to her shoulder, but he was yanking her hair, exposing her neck and throat to his merciless lips.

"Whelp," he breathed cool air over the hot wet trail he'd left behind, sending shivers ruminating through her.

She stroked his cheek with her fingertips, stopping to trace the scar over his left cheek, smearing his war paint.

"Whoops," she giggled and licked her thumb, rubbing off the rest of it. He merely continued to suckle her neck, one side and then the other.

He sat up, still holding her.

"You're a little too...dressed....for this occasion."

His smile was wicked and she quivered with nervous anticipation. He'd seen her naked plenty of times, and she was sure he looked and enjoyed. But this time, her nudity was the goal and he'd be doing more than just glancing.

His fingers crept around her back and he tugged at the ribbon, allowing it to come undone. He leaned down running a hand down her shoulder, following with his lips. His fingers hooked into the neckline of the gown and he slid it down her shoulder. She tilted her head back as his mouth traveled to the other side by way of her collarbones. Down, down, down he slid the other shoulder, leaving just the tops of her breasts exposed. She was breathing heavily, causing them to rise up and down. Skjor stopped to admire them for a moment, before using his teeth to nibble his way down.

Before she knew what was happening, he had picked her up and set her on the floor in front of him, while he sat on the edge of the bed. And the nightgown pooled at her feet, leaving her completely bare and exposed. But as vulnerable as she felt, there was also a rush of excitement, knowing he was enjoying the sight of her. His eye roamed down her body, taking every inch of her in. Part of her wanted to cover herself, but the other part of her stood proudly in front of his appraising eye.

It was chilly in her rooms, but Nayna hardly noticed, her body flush with feverish heat and lust.

He reached for her and she stepped into his arms, bending over to touch her lips to his. But it was only a touch, because he was hungry for something else. He took each breast in one hand and began kneading them, squeezing them. Up and down, in and out. And then he leaned forward to draw a nipple between his teeth, letting his tongue flicker over her until she grew hard in his mouth. Then he moved to the other side and repeated the process.

"Skjor," she whimpered.

He merely moved back to the original side, only this time he swirled his tongue over each nipple until she was sure she would collapse, but he held her securely. The steady fire that burned within began to blaze, as he raked over her with his rasping chin, his nipping teeth, his calloused palms. She needed him so bad it hurt. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back as he played with her, teasing her, torturing her.

Then she realized he was no longer caressing her breasts, but his mouth was on her belly now and his eye was staring at her, looking into what felt like her very soul. He kept moving lower and lower, towards the dark patch of hair between her thighs.

Skjor fell to his knees, teeth gnashing at her hip bone. He would leave worshiping bruises on her for the next few weeks to come.

He nudged her knees open more and her heart skipped a beat, realizing how little experience she truly had. She'd heard of mean pleasuring their women with their mouths and tongues, but no man had ever done it for her.

She bit the insides of her lips with her teeth, preparing for his mouth, but he merely kissed down her leg. She whined in protest, and he chuckled against her inner thigh, blowing cool air, over her hot, hot self. She longed for his touch.

He poised himself right between her thighs and paused, looking devilishly up at her. "Do you want it, whelp?"

She nodded, but he shook his head. "I said, do you want it?"

"Please," she begged softly.

He bent his head down and began with one long and very, very slow lick that caused her to shudder and moan, a guttural, nearly bestial sound. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she rocked back on her heels. He curled one arm around her bottom, while grabbing the fleshy part of her leg with his other hand.

"Skjor," she murmured and felt him smile against her.

He began giving her deep kisses, with more than enough tongue, making her writhe her hips against him. She was panting and mewling, little high pitched sounds every time she breathed out. Everything seemed to disappear. All she knew were the sweet suckling kisses and the swift stirring of his tongue. When he started to churn his tongue in fast, tight circles, it didn't take her long to reach her pleasure. Her howling cries rang throughout the chamber, probably echoing all throughout Jorrvaskr.

He stood, never loosening his grip on her, and she trembled against his body for a moment before shoving him back on the bed and tearing at the ties of his breeches and then the ties to his loincloth. He sprang out at attention when she ripped the undergarment off and she smiled at Skjor, who looked up at her with lustful eyes.

And then he pulled her back on the bed with him, rolling her on her back, in a gesture of dominance. He was the Alpha and she was the Whelp. And that's how she liked it as he settled between her legs and propped himself up on his elbows.

He was biting his way down her neck, hard enough that she would be marked by the morn. But she'd wear them like trophies, like adored battle scars. He stopped at her breasts, again taking her nipples between his teeth, drawing her in until she was hard in his mouth and repeating on the other side. He dragged his tongue downwards, stopping at her side. She pushed herself up to look at him, but he was staring at the puckered flesh on her ribcage. The scar from Morthal.

The beast grew agitated at the pause in their mating, but the human knew this was important to him, so she pushed it back down, gazing down at him.

She couldn't read his expression, and he lowered his face again, dragging his lips across the scar, sending scattered shivers and gooseflesh up her spine. It didn't hurt her anymore, and she only felt an odd tugging where he was touching her.

"Oh, whelp," he murmured into her flesh.

"Come back to me, my love."

His eye flickered up to look into her face and he grinned indecently at her, making her giggle with anticipation and need. He climbed her, nuzzling his face up her torso, between her breasts, across her neck and finally leveling himself with her mouth, where he haunted her with a toe curling kiss.

"Skjor," she moaned into his mouth and he settled himself down on top of her.

Her sensitive nipples scraped at the hair on his chest and his token of Hircine swung in the air between them. She cupped his face with her palm as he lowered himself, and she felt a familiar delicious pressure. Willingly, she opened herself up for him and he nudged his way inside, taking his time, stretching her to fit him. She groaned in his ear and he growled back at her. Ripples of pleasure spread across her groin in a flash of fire. She was ready to consume him. If he didn't consume her first, that was. For now, he continued his achingly slow pace.

At last he was inside of her to the hilt and she whimpered. Now she belonged to him. And he to her.

He stopped, panting, laying his forehead against hers.

"What are you doing?" She whimpered.

"I want to remember this moment, whelp."

"Oh, Skjor, my own love." A romantic thrill blew over her heart and she pulled him in for another kiss.

"I love you, whelp."

She smiled, stroking his face. "I love you."

He nipped her lip. "Gods, I've wait so long for this....for you....."

"I'm here, my love."

He withdrew, pausing for just a moment before he came crashing back into her. She cried out as he did it again and again and again. Her nails dug into his shoulders, moving down, leaving long red gouges on his arms.

He groaned in her ear, each time he slammed into her. She turned her face to his, catching his lips and thrusting her own tongue in his mouth. Their tongues danced and tangled for a time, while Skjor kept his steady pace.

Skjor fit so perfectly inside of her. She'd never felt so much pleasure during the main act of lovemaking. Even gentle Farkas couldn't compare. She'd been right. Skjor was everything she wanted, everything she didn't know she needed. He was her heart.

And then he was whispering sweet, sweet things in her ear as he thrust inside of her. Things she'd never heard any man say to her in the entirety of her life. Calling her whelp, telling her he loved her. Not only telling her he loved her, but how he'd always loved her, from the moment he first saw her. Was telling her how he'd get the moons, the stars, the sky for her if only she asked. How he'd do anything to see the dimples in her cheeks or hear the giggle from her throat. How it had been the longest year and a half of his life, waiting for her to become his. How he nearly went crazy when she was stabbed and nearly died. How his heart had broken when she left for High Hrothgar, and that terrible, terrible month he'd spent waiting for her to return.

Nayna felt the pain in his heart and she turned her head to soothe the ache with soft kisses. She was terrible at these things, the only thing she could think to say was "I love you and I'm here."

He crushed his mouth to hers, dominating her very soul, claiming her for his own, his thrusts coming more rapidly and more powerfully. She whimpered in response, clinging to him, never wanting to let him go.

He kissed his way over her cheeks, up to her eyelids, down her nose, stopping for a moment at her lips. "Oh, whelp," he sighed into her mouth and she shuddered against him. But then his tongue was dragging down her throat, and to her breasts. She arched upwards, and he pulled her nipple into his mouth, looking up at her all the while as he swirled his tongue around and around and around. And yet he never broke his momentum inside of her.

"Don't stop," she pleaded. He merely chuckled, sending vibrations reverberating through her entire body.

He was maddening, timing each thrust with the flicking of his tongue. As each wave of pleasure smacked over her, she dug her nails deeper and deeper into his back, until she left several bloody marks behind. He only growled at her, continuing his rhythm. Her whole body was tightening up, tensing, just on the edge of sweet relief.

She'd never reached her pleasure from lovemaking alone, it was a new feeling as she moaned and lost herself within him. Her hips were lifting off the bed, eager to keep him in her.

And then he sent her over the edge, her heightened groans yet again piercing the loud silence of the room. Skjor had stopped thrusting, grunting as she spasmed around him.

"Whelp," he grunted against her skin.

She melted back on the bed, head thrown back, throat on display, a fit of utter submission to him, to the Alpha. Skjor's hands stroked up and down her body as he whispered more sweet things in her ear. She honestly had no idea what he was saying, she was deep within herself, deeper than even the beast.

"Whelp?"

Her eyes slid into focus, finding Skjor's face looming above her.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh yes," she breathed. "Keep going."

He smiled and kissed her neck as he filled her repeatedly. His fingers skimmed down her sides and he tugged on her legs, dragging them upwards, so they wrapped nicely around his hips, pulling him even closer to her.

Skjor slowed down, taking his sweet time, not that Nayna minded. She hadn't realized it would be like this. Farkas had been good to her, but nothing compared to the passion she felt emanating from Skjor's body. To her, he was utter perfection. She loved the dark hair on his chest, the scars adorning his body, the hard muscles of his stomach, the full lips, his calloused hands.

He came up for air, resting his cheek against hers, his heavy panting blowing hot and cold in her ear.

She moved her face so her lips were pressed against his ear and she whispered "Harder."

He turned to look at her with his good eye. "Harder?" His voice was barely a grunt.

"Please."

A slow grin spread across his face. "You want it rough, whelp?"

"Aye," she moaned.

He seized her wrists and pinned them above her head, grasping them hard enough to leave bruises. She was going to be one big bruise the next day.

He crushed his mouth to hers, not unlike the kisses he had ravaged her with the night she took the blood. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue swept forcefully into her, tangling and ensnaring hers. He rammed his hips into her and she tightened her legs in response.

She loved the feeling of being pinned against him, helpless as he ravaged her. Her cries and whimpers were loud, even though muffled.

The wolf wanted to dominate, wanted to play and grapple for the top. In a vain attempt to placate the beast she struggled and he snarled at her, biting her neck. "Thought you wanted it rough?"

She grinned mischievously at him. "I do. Isn't this what you want?"

He merely growled in approval. But as much as he held her down, they both knew he would never tame her beast, he would never tame her.

Their little game was forgotten as he slammed into her. He still held her down, but she focused more on him than the game She felt the already hard, tight muscles of his belly constrict, and his taut backside flexing as he stiffened. A rush of excitement jolted through her as she realized he was close.

"Whelp," and this time it was Skjor whimpering into her hair, as he spouted his warm seed inside of her. She ripped her wrists free and wrapped him tightly in her arms, pressing all of her against him as he moaned and whined in her ear.

"Skjor, oh Skjor, my love," she whispered against his cheek, over and over again.

He collapsed himself on top of her, completely spent and panting. She stroked his arms, his back, his face, kissing his brow, and finally pressing his head against her heart. His eyes were closed and his nostrils flared as he tried to regain his breath.

Her wolf was sated for now. The respite was always brief, always fleeting and hollow.

It had been so easy, so wonderful to just give herself to him. He was right. It was the best feeling in the world. She only hoped that she wouldn't fuck it up, like she always managed to.


	21. The Meeting

She lay in the protective curl of Skjor's arms, her cheek pressed to his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took. Her beast was never content to lay in its mates arms for more than a few moments at a time. Her toes wiggled involuntarily as she struggled to stay adrift. How did Skjor manage? She wanted so desperately to ask him, but as usual she never could bring herself to do it. She always felt like she was invading his privacy when she nagged about the wolf.

Was it truly her beast though? Nayna pushed the thought away and shifted against his warmth. He snorted and pulled her in closer.

“Whelp.”

She smiled. “Heil, love.”

His eyes were still closed as he stroked his fingers maddeningly up and down her spine. She arched her back and shuddered away. He chuckled.

Beyond the door she heard the scuffing of unfamiliar boots. They turned the corner and stopped in front of the door to Skjors room and knocked.

He groaned and threw the coverlet back, sliding her gently on the bed. Skjor's backside disappeared into the trousers from the night before, and she sighed, a little sadly. He threw a nefarious grin over his shoulder at her and she bit her lip enticingly. He motioned to the door so she wrapped a sheet around her breasts as she sat up.

The knock came again, this time a bit louder. A feminine voice emitted through the other side. “My Thane?”

Lydia. Nayna winced. Her poor housecarl had been so neglected over the past few years. The only time Nayna had ever rendered her services was on the trip to High Hrothgar, and even then she didn't speak much to the poor woman. Nayna saw her weekly when she met with the Jarl, but they only met in passing, exchanging pleasant greetings and nothing else. She was a terrible Thane.

Skjor pulled the door open and gestured for the Nord woman to enter. Lydia stepped in hesitantly until she saw Nayna.

“Honor to you my Thane,” she said with a bow. Nayna flushed as Skjor smirked behind Lydia.

“Shut the door!” Nayna called to Skjor. “And please don't bow Lydia. Sit down. Skjor get her something to drink.”

“Yes, my Thane,” he snickered. Nayna rolled her eyes, but otherwise pointedly ignored him.

Lydia balanced herself on the edge of the bed as Skjor pulled out a bottle of Honningbrew Mead. She smiled at Skjor and took it, but didn't drink.

Nayna drew the sheet around her a little tighter and cleared her throat. “What can I do for you?”

“The Jarl requests your presence at the council meeting this afternoon. And he desires you bring a representative from the Companions of your choosing.”

Nayna and Skjor exchanged glances over Lydia's head.

“Alright,” Nayna said slowly. “Any idea what it's about?”

Lydia shrugged. “I'm not sure, Thane. Rumor has it that the bandits around here are becoming ever more bold. And some new faction has sprung up and been making threats against the people.”

“New faction?” Skjor asked, pressing his own bottle of mead to his lips.

Lydia nodded and looked between Skjor and Nayna. “They call themselves the Silver Hand. Werewolf hunters.”

Skjor slowly placed his bottle down on the desk, his eye searching for Nayna's. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. The Silver Hand. They were the ones who trapped her and nearly killed Farkas. She hadn't run into any since her trial.

“Thank you Lydia. Can you inform Jarl Balgruuf that Skjor and I will attend the meeting this afternoon?”

Lydia stood and bowed her head. “At once my Thane.” She inclined her head at Skjor and exited the room, closing the door with a sharp snap behind her.

They waited until they heard her cross the threshold to the main hall before speaking. He let out a long slow breath.

“We need to tell Kodlak,” Nayna said, throwing the sheet aside.

Skjor rubbed his hands over his face. “This is not what I had in my mind for today.”

“No fucking kidding. This isn't what I had in mind for life,” she muttered as she opened the chest at the foot of the bed, digging for a clean pair of small clothes and for leggings and a matching shirt. After she was dressed she shrugged her way into a leather vest, lacing it tightly across her breasts. Skjor watched with interest, grinning his sly grin.

She shook her head. “Tonight.”

“Now,” he growled, but Nayna put her hand on his still bare chest, shaking her head.

 "Later. Come on before we're late."

 

“That was a colossal waste of my time. You could have handled that on your own.”

Nayna shrugged helplessly. “Don't know what to tell you. Most council meetings are. And thank you.”

Skjor sighed. “Do you mind going to Kodlak? I need to run a quick errand.”

“Sure, love. Do you need help?”

Skjor shook his head. “I won't be too long. See you at supper.”

And then he kissed her brow and jogged down the stairs of Dragonsreach. She followed him, watching him cross through the circle of the Wind District. He stopped briefly to pat Lucia the orphan on the head and hand her a few coins before disappearing down the next set of stairs. The little girl held them tightly to her breast, a slight smile on her face.

The Companions tried to help Lucia best as they could, but the little girl was frightened, often retreating to the Temple of Kynareth anytime one of them passed. Skjor was the only one she warmed up to. Even small Nayna scared her.

She turned left, up the stairs to Jorrvaskr, the welcoming sounds of steel ringing in her ears. When she stepped inside she was surprised to see Farkas sitting with Ysolda in his lap, laughing. They sprang apart as Nayna walked through, but she simply held up her hand and smiled.

“Don't mind me, just heading downstairs.”

She was not in the least bit jealous. She was very much glad Farkas had moved on. Aela had reassured her it would be so, and she was glad to see it finally happening. If only Aela would find someone, Nayna's guilt would fade away...

She popped her head into the sitting room. As usual Kodlak was sitting at the table, books opened, his journal in his lap.

“Sit down, I'll be with you in a moment, Lass.”

She sat next to him, tapping her fingers on the desk as she watched him scratching in his journal. Finally he looked up at her and smiled.

“What was the meeting about?”

“The Silver Hand asked for funding from the Jarl. He wanted our advice since he knows there's been a sort of commotion between us. I managed to convince the Jarl it was because they were vigilantes, almost along the line of the Vigilantes of Stendarr, but far more fanatical and a lot more bloody, not caring if innocents get hurt. I steered him away from any implication of our...affliction.”

Kodlak shook his head. “I don't know how you do it.”

Nayna laughed and sipped her water. “I grew up in Daggerfall. Everything is a political game there. They say Imperials are good politicians? Clearly they've never been to the Court of Daggerfall.”

“Well, thank you Nayna. You've proven yourself invaluable to me.”

Her smile faded and she shrugged. “Please don't.”

Kodlak patted her arm and squeezed gently. “Lass, there is no need for any of that. No matter. Anything else of consequence?”

Nayna pursed her lips. “Only the ever looming threat of dragons.” She sighed. “I don't know exactly what he expects of me. I don't know how to get rid of them.”

“Did you ever find the horn?”

“Aye, but the woman who took it...There was something off about her. I don't think I can trust her.”

Kodlak nodded. “Perhaps the Greybeards would know.”

She stared across the room. “Maybe.”

“I think it may be in everyone's best interest for you to find out.”

She sat picking at her fingernails, avoiding Kodlak's wise stare. He was right, of course.

“Is there anything else you needed me for, Harbinger?”

“No, that is all for today. Would you mind shutting the door when you go?”

“Of course.”

She bowed to him and closed the doors behind her, heading up to the training grounds. She spent the next few hours sparring with Athis and Njada, trying to distract herself from the dragon threat. It worked when she knocked Njada to the ground.

Nayna offered the woman her hand and Njada squinted up at her before accepting the help.

“Good arm,” Nayna said. She and Njada still didn't like each other, but a mutual respect had formed between the two. “I think it's high time I learned to handle a shield.”

Njada nodded. “I'll trade you lessons with your knife for lessons with the shield.”

“Deal,” Nayna said shaking the woman's hand. “Thanks for the match.”

“Where are you going?” Torvar asked from the patio. “I thought you were going to the meadery with me.”

“Think you have me confused with Ria again,” Nayna laughed and patted his back as she walked past him. “I'm heading in.”

 

When Nayna padded into Skjor's room she was surprised to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head cradled between his hands.

“Skjor?” Her voice was soft and he didn't look up. But she knew he heard her.

She kicked over the stool and sat between his legs. Her toes barely brushed the ground, so instead she rubbed one foot up and down his calf.

“My love?”

He looked up at her, his good eye, bloodshot. His face was red and wet, and Nayna reached up to dry his cheeks with her fingers. He still said nothing, but turned his face into her palm and she cupped his face. The urge to wrap her arms around him was strong, but she resisted, not knowing how to handle Skjor in his present condition. So she merely kept stroking the stubble on his cheek with her thumb.

She held him there for a moment before asking again. “Love, what is it?”

He cleared his throat several times, and when he did speak, his voice warbled. “My sister.”

Sister? He'd never talked to her about his family before, except to call them milk-drinkers. A flare of annoyance sparked, but she squashed it down. Skjor was feeling bad enough already without her nagging at him about something that didn't matter in the long run.

“Is she alright?”

Skjor gripped her wrist and gingerly set it on her lap. He didn't let go, only stroked the skin with his thumb, sending shudders over her body. “No. She's pregnant.”

Nayna furrowed her brow and tilted her head to the side, but Skjor continued. “The last time the healer told her she shouldn't have another baby because it would kill her. And it looks like it will this time.”

Her heart ached for him. “Oh my love. I am so sorry.”

Skjor shook his head. “She has three little girls. Her husband died less than two months ago. His desire for a son is what's going to kill her in the end.”

His brother-in-law had died and he hadn't told her. She was stung, and she wondered if Aela knew about any of it. She pulled her hand from his grip, but he didn't notice. She willed herself not to walk away, as hurt as she was, he was hurting more.

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Why do women do it? It's not worth the risk.”

Nayna tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said nothing. She wasn't sure how she felt about children. She'd always assumed she'd have them with the man her father chose for her, but after her father revealed him to her, she couldn't do it. Children were the furthest thing from her mind. She couldn't foresee having a child and being a Companion. It was a rough life and who knew when her next job would be her last? She couldn't bring a child into such an uncertain world. Even moreso now that she knew Skjor didn't want any. True, they weren't as careful as they should have been, but so far they'd escaped any serious consequences.

If she ever did have children, and that was a big if, she wanted them to know how much they were wanted and loved. Unlike she was.

Skjor was looking expectantly at her, so she sighed and murmured, “I do not know my own love. I'm not the right person to ask.”

And then he tugged on her wrist and she stood, sliding her arms around his shoulders. Being able to hold him helped allay the ache in her heart. He buried his face between her breasts and inhaled sharply. “You don't need a baby to be happy, do you, Nayna?”

She stroked her fingers over the crown of his head. “No. Only you, my love.”

He let out a shaky breath that warmed her skin through the leather vest and the linen of her light blue tunic. Her nipples hardened, and Skjor ran his fingers up her belly to palm her heavy breasts. That need, that hunger arose, and Skjor leaned out, his wolf answering the call from its mate. Their lips and tongues met in a fervor of insatiable, unquenchable thirst.

She climbed into his lap, and his hands were everywhere. On her bottom, her sides, her breasts, her face. His fingers came up and tugged the laces of her vest apart. She reached behind her and shook out of it and then deftly removed her shirt. She unwound her breast band, letting their soft, heavy weight fall into his waiting hands.

“Nayna,” he murmured and her heart skipped a beat. She wasn't used to hearing him call her by name unless he was cross with her.

“Skjor.”

He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered sensually, “Ride me.”

She caught his lips again and he lay back, pulling her down with him. And then it was a fury of lips, hands and moans, as they rid themselves of the rest of their clothing.

He held her hips as he guided her down on him, slowly. Ever so slowly, and she shuddered. Again, he cupped her breasts and squeezed, sending more pleasure vibrating up her body. His hips bucked and she moved her own in time with him.

She threw her head back, reaching her pleasure long before he did, but she kept rocking back and forth all the same. Underneath her hands, under the hairs of his chest, she felt his wolf, pacing, panting, wanting to unleash, but being kept at bay by Skjor. Her own longed to reach out and soothe the frantic agony of its mate, just as she was trying to pour water on Skjor's fire.

Skjor gripped her elbows and yanked her sharply, pulling her to his chest. He held her almost, protectively, as his hips thrust wildly upwards. She looked at his face in alarm, but his eyes were closed. Skjor had retreated far into himself. How he kept the wolf in control....She simply rested her cheek on his collarbone and let him have his frenzied way with her, until he was crying out.

“Whelp....” his voice was a guttural grunt as he spent himself inside of her. So much for not wanting a baby. So much for being careful.

He turned his face, his lips searching for hers and she brushed them with her own. He was shuddering, shaking and Nayna kissed him with everything she had. This was such a different, vulnerable side of Skjor. She wanted to hold him forever, wanted to protect him, wanted to soothe the pain in his heart.

He sat up with her in his lap, her arms coiled around him. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder, stroking her back.

“Skjor...?”

“Mmm?”

“It's cold.”

They shifted back on the bed, under the covers, entangling themselves around each other.

“Damnit, I don't want to have to go back to Shor's Stone again,” he grumbled.

She rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him, but he was staring at the screen at the opposite end of the bed. “Is that where they are?”

“No one of my other sisters is there. Finja and her girls moved to one of the farms outside of Whiterun. Small farm off of the Battle-born's farm.”

She rocked her chin side to side. “That's where you went this afternoon.”

His fingers twisted in her hair. “Yeah.”

“What'll happen to the girls and the baby? Will you take them?”

“No, they'll go to one of my other sisters, I suppose.”

She stopped rocking and lifted her head. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Three.”

“Mmm.”

Skjor cut his gaze to her, brow furrowed. “I never told you any of this, did I?”

“No, you didn't. You didn't even tell me your brother-in-law died.”

She knew she sounded petulant, and she knew exactly how hypocritical she sounded. She hadn't told him anything about her family save for her mothers father.

He gently lowered her head to his chest, big palm cradling the back of her neck.“Sorry, whelp. I don't like talking about them...” he trailed off and sighed, his breath blowing over her cheek. She shivered and he curled himself around her. “I was the only son. My father died in a mining accident, and my mother...Well, she fell into her own sadness and drink. Spent all the coin we had on drink. I was fifteen and there I was taking care of myself and my three younger sisters. They were ten, seven and two.”

“You were so young.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I was working my finger to the bone in the mines, while my mother pissed away everything we had. Maeve worked harder than she did.”

“Maeve?”

“My youngest sister. Anja was the eldest sister and Finja is the middle--Finja is the one who is having the baby. Anja still lives in Shor's Stone with her husband. Their son lives in Riften, pretty sure he's part of the Thieves Guild, and their daughter died four years ago. Maeve lives in Ivarstead with her husband and son.”

“Oh.”

“Anja would take on sewing projects, while Finja helped take care of Maeve and picked herbs for Anja to sell at the market. Had my mother not taken everything, we would have been OK. Not well to do, but we would have had enough to eat.”

She felt his thudding heart under her cheek. His eyes were closed, and he didn't say anything for a long time. Nayna's mind wandered to his sisters, wondering what they were like, if they would like her. She skimmed her fingers over his collarbone, as she daydreamed of a young Skjor with both eyes, probably a little scrawny, but determined.

He was still for so long, she feared he had fallen asleep. “Skjor...”

He opened his eyes and looked into hers. She saw the anguish in his eye and she propped herself up on her elbows to catch his mouth in a gentle kiss. It was the only way she knew to comfort him. He rubbed his hands up and down her sides.

“Whelp,” he murmured and she nuzzled his neck.

He rolled her on her side and pressed her close to him. He took a deep breath and continued on. “It lasted for a year that way, with all of us struggling to eat. And then one day Maeve came out to the mines, screaming. My mother had drunken herself, dead. And the worst part? Anja and I were both so relieved. At sixteen and eleven we were happy to see our mother die. We made it okay, but I was exhausted. Physically, mentally. The war started and I was itching to fight. I was twenty. I'd been taking care of my siblings for nearly six years. It was wearing on me. Anja could see it. Even at fifteen she knew how harsh it was on me. So she went and got pregnant by the first farmer who would have her. And they married and took in Finja and Maeve. And Anja bought me my first sword and told me to go fight. And like a coward, I did.”

“You're not a coward.”

“But I was. You see, I was scared that if I lived that life any longer my--”

“--your heart would die.”

Skjor looked into her eyes and smiled. “Exactly.”

She kissed his chin and closed her eyes. Had she stayed in Daggerfall, she would have given up her heart and soul and she would have become nothing more than a bitter, hollowed shell.


	22. The Gift

Seven days. Seven whole days passed and no blood. It wasn't an anomaly, she'd gone two whole months without bleeding on her way from Hammerfell to Cyrodiil. Then again, she hadn't been having sex at the time either. And she especially hadn't been having sex with a man who made his stance on children absurdly clear.

Seven days had passed since Skjor had told her about Finja and the rest of his family. Seven days passed since they'd last made love. Both their minds were occupied. Hers with the coming Silver Hand menace and his with his sisters and their children.

Nayna pushed the chair back from the desk, abandoning all hope of answering any letters. Or writing them. Kodlak asked her to make inquires to the other Jarls on his behalf regarding the Silver Hand and any potential rumors. She'd written all except one. 

It lay unsealed and unfinished, blotted and smeared with ink. She'd crossed out several lines, and then fretted over signing her own name. What if he remembered? Worse, what if he didn't remember her? She certainly remembered Ulfric fucking Stormcloak. Hell, she saw him almost every night in her nightmares.

With her elbows on the desk she rested her face in her inky hands. Overwhelmed didn't even begin to cover her feelings. Seven days late, seven days passed and seven more to come, for she and Skjor were to leave in the morn for Solitude. It irked her to no end that he refused to mention his business there aside from the Jarl asking for him. 

She was so agitated she missed the door opening behind her and the scuffling of boots on the carpet. It wasn't until he was touching her shoulders that she realized he was even there. She jumped nearly a foot in the air and gasped. He chuckled in her ear before pressing his lips to her jaw from behind.

Her voice cracked as she cried out. "Skjor!" 

"Whelp!" He responded with a snicker and a pinch to her cheek.

She wriggled herself free from his arms and turned her face up to look at him. There were purple smudges under each of his eyes, and his face drooped. It was as if he would fall asleep right there on his feet. Seven days lacking sleep took their toll on Skjor, for sure and certain. She reached behind her and clutched his hand. Using his hand as leverage she pulled herself up and steadied herself against him. He let her lead him towards the bed and she began taking off his armor in silence. Nary a protest escaped from his lips aside from a soft puff of air. 

While she worked the buckles of his wolf armor, his hands gripped her hips. As she freed him from the constraints of his armor the pungent aroma of sweat, death and blood flooded her senses. For just a moment she was wolf and human. Then she blinked several times and the human took over her again.  
"Been hunting?" She asked, though she didn't need to. Her knuckles were white as she gripped his chest plate.

"Yeah," his voice was gruff.

"Aela go with you?" Nayna tried to sound nonchalant, but instead she sounded petty and childish. 

"Mmhmm," he replied.

His brow furrowed more than normal as his guilt ridden gaze met her own accusatory stare. The hurt rushed over her, but she thinned her lips into a line, biting down as hard as she could. Of course he'd gone with Aela, who knew him better than anyone. Her heart ached at that thought, for she was trying her best to let Skjor in. 

At the surge of pain, the beast lurched forward within her and she struggled to control it. She swiveled on the ball of her feet and half staggered, half strode over to the dresser to place his armor atop. With a gentle hand she placed a steadying hand on Skjor's armor and inhaled in a slow and ordered fashion. She was master, not her beast. 

"Whelp..."

"I'm fine." Though even to her ears she sounded anything but fine.

Behind her he grunted and thumped himself backwards on to the bed. She peered at him over her shoulder, taking in his form laying on the bed, his hands over his face. 

Seven days echoed throughout the back of her mind, settling into the pit of her stomach with a dreary, achy horror. Telling him just then seemed cruel. Until she knew for certain, she would wait.

She pushed off the dresser and stalked over to the desk where the unfinished letter lay, scratched and inky. In one fluid motion she snapped it up and twirled towards the door. 

"Where are you going, whelp?" Skjor growled from the bed as she stomped over to the door, snagging the handle.

"Going to see Kodlak about these damned letters."

She yanked the door open, sending it reverberating against the opposite wall. 

Nayna slammed the door shut behind her, making her ears ring. She took several deep breaths as she paced herself down the hallway to Kodlaks rooms. She had planned to lay with Skjor that evening, asking him about his sisters. Instead she would run underneath the moons, alone.   
Skjor often chastised her, like a child, for transforming alone. He insisted it was quite dangerous, and while he was right, there was something about being alone. It meant she was wild, free, unbound to duty or even to her mate.

If he would only ask her to hunt alongside him, then she wouldn't feel the need to go alone. No matter, for she was always alone. Skjor may have been her mate, her lover, her man, but she was still detached and lonely, even then. He would never understand the damage he did whenever he asked Aela to accompany him instead of her. The worst part, to her, was that he didn't even seem to understand how hurtful it was.  
It was with a sense of self-importance and anger that sent her marching down the hall. She didn't know what she would say to Kodlak when he inquired about the letters, but she wasn't sure she cared either.

She stopped just outside of the closed doors of his sitting room and listened. The familiar scratch, scratch of his quill scraped across the crinkled parchment of his journal. She smiled despite her anger and pain and raised her fist to tap on the door. 

The quill stopped and the book shut with a snap. Kodlak grunted as he heaved himself from the chair and he thumped over to the doors and threw them open, smiling at her.

"How can I help you, youngling?"

She smiled a horrific, gargoyle smile at him. "Harbinger, it's these letters."

He nodded knowingly at her and pulled the door open further, gesturing her inside.

She stepped inside of Kodlaks warm, cozy sitting room, fingers clasping the letter to her stomach. Kodlak placed a broad hand on the small of her back and led her to his table, where he pushed her to sit. Kodlak poured her a tankard of ale and slid it across the table with practiced skill. A nervous giggle escaped her lips as she caught it with the tips of her fingers. 

He settled himself opposite her and rested his elbows on the table. His hands folded together and he rested his chin atop them, gazing into her eyes with a rapt attentiveness that unnerved her. 

"Let me guess, it's the letter to the Jarl of Windhelm, is it not?"

She nodded and began to explain her hesitation and worry. Kodlak listened to her fears, nodding in all the right places. His eyes never left hers, even when she glanced away to take in a heavy, shaking breath. He reached over the table and covered her small hand with his large paw, squeezing it with reassurance. 

"Well, then, lass. We'll do it together and I shall sign it and send it off on the morrow. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak will never be the wiser."

 

After she finished with Kodlak, she traded the warm hall for the cool night air, comfort for thrills and skin for fur. Dashing down the plains of Whiterun, feeling the wind whip through her fur, she felt alive in new ways. Ways the human had never imagined, never dreamed of. She didn't halt until she came to the rapids of Riverwood. There she stopped to drink in the sweet, refreshing water. Chills of pleasure raced through the body of the beast, echoing from paw to snout. The smell of man was strong in her snout, and the beast whined, longing to taste the flesh. But the beast knew better than to hunt man without its pack, to do so would mean certain death.

She left her human side far, far behind and immersed herself in her wolf. Oh, she would remember in the morning, unlike that first transformation, still hazy.   
In the forests of Falkreath, she ran, wild and free with no purpose aside from laying the troubles of her heart down. 

For sometime she stalked a buck, low to the ground, following it from tree to tree. Its tail flitted from side to side as it lifted its nose to the wind, but the beast outsmarted the deer. For the beast stood downwind, opposite of the buck. 

With every step the buck took, the beast followed, paws pressing into the earth with utter silence. 

The moons hid behind the clouds, offering no light to see by, but the beast needed neither light, nor sound. The sense of smell was all that was necessary to ensnare the other animal.   
A snap of a twig made the deer freeze, ears twitching backwards. But then it decided there was nothing abound and it continued on. The beast curled its snout in satisfaction as the buck stopped to graze. 

The wolf raised up onto its hind legs and extended its claws. Two steps and then it lunged at the deer, its bellowing cry raising into the air above. Euphoric shivers exploded all over the beasts body at the intense sound of the wolfs jaw snapping the bucks neck.

The wolf feasted, savoring the kill, the blood and the meat. It tore apart the flesh and sinew with ease, jaws mashing together, blood drizzling down the snout. Out of habit, the beast turned to offer some of the kill to its mate. But its mate wasn't there, and inside the wolf ached with loneliness. 

The thought of her mate brought her back to her human senses, though she was still wolf on the outside. Nayna stumbled back from the dead deer, laying in pieces in puddles of bloody grass.   
Beyond her, the moons broke free from the yolk of the clouds, shining down on her. Her face turned upwards of its own accord, basking in the light of the moons. She drew her strength from their seductive pull. If only the Alpha, if only her mate, if only Skjor had come to enjoy the hunt alongside her, then maybe she wouldn't suffer so.  
It started out as a lowly whine, signaling other beasts, other wolves. And then it grew into a high-pitched cry, echoing across the forestlands. From there it became a long, drawn out howl, resonating from her soul to haunt any and all who happened upon Falkreath that night. She poured her troubles, her pain, her misery to the moons, but they never answered.

Close to sunrise, she shimmed up the platform to the Underforge and crept her way back into Jorrvaskr. She stopped at the crossroads between her room and Skjor's room. Most of her nights she spent sleeping beside Skjor in his room. If she admitted the truth, she hadn't spent but one night in her own room in the three months she and Skjor had been together. If she turned left, she could hop into bed beside him and curl into his warmth. If she turned right, she could spend the rest of her night curled up alone, chewing on her jealousy. Turning right meant blowing over the hot coals of her anger, attempting to start its fire again. Turning left meant talking and forgiveness, two things she wasn't sure she was ready to give.

The coward in her wanted to run and hide. Or it wanted something easy to happen, to have her choice taken away from her.Her mother's man's voice sounded in the back of her mind, whispering that she could do what was easy or she could do what was right. Gods, she hadn't thought about him or that phrase in so long, she'd almost forgotten. Biting down on her lip, she headed over to Skjor's room and pushed the door open, taking care to be as quiet as possible.

But he wasn't asleep like she expected. He was sitting on the bed, browsing through a book, though it was clear he was waiting up for her. He snapped it shut and tossed it on the nightstand beside the bed, watching her the entire time.

She didn't meet his eyes, instead crossing the room and plopping herself down in the chair. Talking to him wouldn't heal the ache in her heart. With shaking, clumsy fingers she worked the laces of her boots, kicking them off and setting them under the desk. 

"Whelp," Skjor sighed.

"Please, not right now, Skjor," Nayna muttered, focusing on the ties of her leggings.

She stood and wiggled them down her hips, feeling his stare at her back. It took everything she had to not tease him, to not inch the shirt over her head, to not expose herself to him.

He pushed himself upright and a grunt issued forth from his lips. As he came to stand behind her, she lifted the shirt over her head. His fingers pressed into the skin of her stomach and the heat from his body soaked into her back.

He pressed his lips to her hair, kissing and caressing. "Whelp..."

"Please, Skjor just let me sleep. Let me get a few hours before we leave for Solitude."

Skjor's head bobbed up and down against her back as a sigh breathed over her neck, making her shudder. Gooseflesh prickled over her skin and she leaned back into the warmth of his chest.

She allowed him to lead her to the bed and tuck her in. As hurt as she was, she tolerated his roaming fingers and allowed his arm to sling itself over her hip. Together they fell asleep in a mass of entangled limbs, holding each other close, each keeping to their own thoughts.

She awoke to a barrage of kisses, running down her cheek to her neck and a soft, velvety tongue on her collarbone. A shriek emitted from her throat and she sat straight up, cracking her skull on the stone beam above the bed. 

"Oh! Ouch!" She cried, grasping her skull, pushing her face between her knees while Skjor laughed a rich deep laugh.

"Whelp, you've got to stop doing that," he chuckled, pulling her from under the beam. He examined her head and planted a soft kiss upon the crown of her skull. "You're completely fine, whelp."

"I haven't been doing it on purpose," she groused, smoothing her hand over her tangled hair.

"No, but that is the third time this week."

She shrugged. "We could sleep in my room, you know. I don't have a heinous beam across my bed, you can even jump at your leisure."

Something crossed over his face that she couldn't quite read, but his smile appeared again in no time. "Stop being so grouchy, whelp. We've got to get a move on."

They helped each other into their armor, still silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Hers were mournful and depressing. She glanced over at him, tying his boots, and wished she knew his thoughts. Wished she knew him well enough to know his thoughts. If she had to chance a guess, she would guess he was angry with her for hunting alone. Or he resented her for being jealous. The possibilities were endless and they would drive her insane if she continued to dwell. So   
Nayna did what she always did, ignoring everything and focusing her attention elsewhere.

Though she had checked it twice already, she rummaged through the full pack looking at their ration and potions stock. Everything was in order so she slung the bag over her shoulder. 

Absentmindedly, she stroked the knives and the quiver hanging from her belt. Skjor looked up from his boots, watching her wander around the room. 

"Ready, whelp?"

"Aye," she said, picking up a slice of cheese and bread. She stuffed them into her mouth without ceremony and gulped down a large drink of water. 

Together they weaved through the early morning bustle of the marketplace. Heimskur's screaming echoed from the Wind District and Skjor's lip half curled. Both their beasts lay silent, even with the smell of so much flesh abound. The hunt of the previous night had been strong for the both of them. As the wind whipped through the Plains District, the familiar smells of boiling ale, pine sap and stale urine wafted into their noses. Skjor was looking at her from the corner of his eye and grinning his wolfish grin. She wrinkled her nose up at him and he rested his hand on her elbow. Her wolf's interest piqued, but not enough to come to life, which was a slight relief to them both.

The guards opened the gates for them, nodding in their general direction, but Nayna paid them no heed. Instead she was counting the days it would take them to reach Solitude on foot. Seven days... Which would make her... She squinted, lost in calculations, coming close to tripping over a rock. Skjor caught her arm and steadied her, his look inquisitive, but she was too lost in thought to catch it.... Seven days more would make her fifteen days late. Her stomach dropped and she took in a shaky breath.

Eight days. She followed Skjor down to the stables with her bag slung over her shoulder and with her head pounding out of her skull. Eight days and counting. The panic started to bubble in her throat, threatened to spill over from her lips. She bit on them to stop from blurting it out right there in the middle of the stableyard. Skjor spoke to her over his shoulder, but his words floated over her head. The only thing she could hear was eight days. Eight days of lies, eight days of hidden truths and eight days without a sign of lovemaking. Her fingers wiggled under the chest plate of her leather armor, twisting the white under tunic. Eight days and then seven days more on the road, a total of fifteen whole days. The question wasn't should she keep up the lie for that long, but could she? Would it be plausible or would it be cruel to withhold it from Skjor for so long?

The sky was a perfect pink, with soft white filmy clouds obscuring the brightness of the early morning sun. Already warm and breezy, it was a great day for traveling. Across the road, the workers on the Pelagia farm began their day of plowing and harvesting. 

"What?" She gasped as Skjor waved an impatient hand.

"I said, I have a gift for you, whelp," he said, motioning to the stablemaster, whose name she always forgot.

He brought forth a beautiful smoky gray horse. She sucked in a sharp breath at the lovely mare and reached her hand out to stroke the silky cream mane. The horse had patterns of dark, black, splotches adorning her flank and snout. Her tail and mane were the delightful color of sweet, honeyed milk. 

"For me?" She breathed, turning to look at Skjor with glee. The grin on his face made her heart flutter and he chuckled in response. 

"For you, whelp. Fucker loves you, but I think we're both too much for him," he said with a wink as he stroked his forefinger over her rounded cheek.

Nayna giggled. "Poor Fakur."

Skjor only shook his head, his stare piercing into her giddiness and she ceased petting the mare.   
All the anger and resentment and jealousy of the previous night dissipated. She wrapped her arms around his waist and turned her face upwards. Skjor pulled her close and leaned in, taking her mouth with an aching slowness that would warm her all morning. He hadn't kissed her like that in eight days. A mixture of guilt and lust frothed to the surface, raising the hackles of her beast. She squashed the wolf down and rested her forehead against the cool metal of his armor.

"Thank you," she whispered into the crook of his neck.

"I love you, whelp."

She turned her gaze to his and smiled. "I know. I love you too, love."


	23. Dragon Bridge

It took them four days to reach Dragons Bridge, the little town just outside of Solitude. Four days more and her lack of moons blood frightened her. It was beginning to become a real possibility... Dizzy, she grasped Skjor's bicep and leaned into him. His fingers coiled around the hem of her shirt and he tugged. She opened her eyes, smiling up at him and he rewarded her with a suggestive grin. An electric thrill spun from her groin outwards and she flushed. They still hadn't made love since the news of Finja's pregnancy. Twelve days of no blood and twelve days of next to no intimacy. His mind lay elsewhere and Nayna respected his quiet as best as she could. Once they were in Solitude and at the tavern, then it would happen. At least, that's what she kept reminding herself.

Dragons Bridge was a tiny little hamlet, almost as old as Solitude itself. Home to the Legion, Imperial banners flapped in the wind, above the tower, above the outposts. Visions of Helgen's flags blurred in and out of her mind and she shuddered.

He placed a comforting hand on the small of her back and steered her to the Inn. They passed a few soldiers clad in Empire red and Nayna felt herself rooted to the spot, staring at one familiar face. Hadvar, the sympathetic Nord carrying the list. The list that lacked her name, but sent her to the block anyway.

Hadvar squinted in her general direction and her blood rushed cold to her pounding heart. Try as he might, he didn't place her and he turned to make a joking comment to one of his commrades. Skjor urged her forward and inside of the Inn. Gods, what if he had recognized her, then where would they be? 

Skjor leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "You look like you've seen a ghost, whelp. What's going on?"

Blinking several times, she lay a shaky hand on his chest in an attempt to reassure him. "I'm...I'm fine, love. What..." She swallowed hard and rough, trying to remove the sandy taste from her dry mouth. "What are we doing here? Solitude is only half a days ride..."

He kissed her hair and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. "Maeve lives here. I want you to meet her. I want her to meet you, whelp."

"Your sister?"

"Yes." He guided her to the counter and bent over the bar, rapping his knuckles against the wood. She flinched at the sound. He grinned at her over his shoulder. "It was she who pointed out to me that I loved you and I should tell you and make you mine."

Her cheeks flamed as her heart skipped a thudding beat. She still had shaky hands, but she couldn't tell if they were trembling due to her encounter with Hadvar or Skjor's confession.

After the barkeep showed them to their room, Nayna stripped herself from her filthy armor. She caught a whiff of herself and gagged. Or maybe it was the combination of her stink and Skjor's sweat. Whatever it was, its odor rank. 

"Any chance we can catch a bath, love?" 

Skjor yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it on the bed. His eye danced as he watched her shimmy out of her leggings and she flushed. The sleeping wolf perked at the thought of being with its mate. Everyday it craved for his hot touch.

Skjor grabbed the basin of water from the dresser, snagging a towel on the way. The basin clinked and water sloshed over the side as Skjor set it on the small table beside her. He turned back to her, looking her up and down with his roving eye.

"Get naked," he commanded her.

Heat rose between her thighs, spreading to the various parts of her body. A nervous giggle escaped her lips, making him grin in return. It didn't take her long to wiggle from her small clothes and unwind the breast bind.

As she stripped, he dunked the towel into the water, his heady gaze never leaving her face. Her traitorous heart beat faster in her chest as he approached. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the cold, wet towel against her shivering skin. Instead, she found the water warm and pleasant as Skjor stroked it down her back. Or maybe it was the heat from her lust warming the towel.

She turned her face to look at him and he trapped her lips against his. Another thrill rushed through her body, as he dragged the towel around to her belly. His other hand crept up her side and came to rest just underneath her breast. Gods, if only he would touch her.

His tongue speared into her mouth, and she groaned against his lips. One of her hands reached behind her, cupping his neck while the other found the wrist holding the towel. She pushed down, but he held steady. They fought with their tongues, with their hands. In the end he let her win, as he slid the towel over the dark patch of hair, guided by her hand.

"Skjor," she whimpered into his mouth as he worked his fingers. She'd forgotten how skilled Skjor was with his fingers. 

He growled in response and pressed his hips against her backside. His desire was strong and growing.

Just before she reached her peak he stopped, eliciting a pathetic whine. He tossed the towel into the basin, splashing water everywhere. He then spun her about and walked her backwards to the bed, his hands on her hips. Hay dust erupted from the mattress and danced in the air around them as she landed on the bed. She watched him take down his trousers through half lidded eyes. Admiring his body, she marveled in the wonder that it belonged to her and her alone. A quiver of excitement jolted, and she needed him right then. She reached out for him and he chuckled.

He climbed atop her and crawled his way up her body, dragging his lips over her quivering skin, until she was begging him to be inside of her. The wolf in her growled and she echoed the sentiment. Skjor paused at her breast and sucked a nipple into his mouth, spiraling his tongue around and around until she was dizzy with pleasure. 

She gasped as he pulled off her nipple with a loud pop, and licked his way up to her neck, where he planted several small kisses up her jaw to her mouth. Her fingers clutched his face, pushing his mouth harder over hers. 

And ever so slow, he began to fill her, making her whimper. She started to lift her hips to pull him further in her, when the alpha in him growled, “No.”

In an attempt to ignore the wolf pacing relentlessly beneath the surface, she dragged her fingernails down his arms. Deep red scratches appeared on his biceps and in return he nipped her neck. 

“Skjor,” she whined, wrapping her arms about his neck as he teased her, inching in at a gruelingly slow pace.

“Gods,” he whispered into her hair. “I've missed this. Missed being close to you. Missed--” he grunted as she clenched around him. “Missed the way you feel wrapped around me. Your smell. Your taste.”

“Me too. Don't ever go this long again,” she murmured into his neck, her voice soft and breathy as he delved even further into her. Gods, he was tormenting her.

“Never.” He said and turned his face, capturing her mouth with his once more.

When she was completely full, he withdrew as slow as he entered, their tongues dancing and swirling together. And then he drove into her with such force she cried out. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper as he thrust faster. The lack of intimacy between the two of them for the past twelve days only served to make her more sensitive. 

Her fingers snaked between their bodies, reaching down to touch. Skjor grunted in approval, and she lost herself in the pleasure of them coming together and her fingers. Her moans were low and throaty, matching his in pitch.

Skjor opened his eyes, the better to watch her. Even during the middle of their love play she felt shy, turning her face away, closing her eyes. Skjor didn't force her to look at him and for that she was grateful. 

He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered. “Whelp.”

She shuddered underneath him and he whispered again. “Whelp.”

The third time he called her whelp she hit her peak, crying out for all the tavern to hear. Skjor chuckled wickedly as she lay back, spent. 

“I love you,” she mumbled and cupped his face, bringing him in for another kiss.

He grunted and slammed into her, getting ever closer. Her wolf placated, her desire waned, and all she desired was to curl up with Skjor on top of her. Running her hands up and down his sides, she amazed herself over the tightness of his muscles. He hissed against her neck and she squealed in delight. Two weeks without his touch, without satisfying her craving for him. 

Shit! Twelve whole days. Her eyes snapped open and Skjor's contorted face blurred in her line of sight. It occurred to her that she should have asked him to pull out, though she wasn't sure how to broach the subject, particularly during lovemaking. Did it matter anyway? She was already late.

At last he cried out, spilling himself inside of her, filling her with his warmth. She curled her arms around him as he collapsed on her, holding him tight to her heart.

“Whelp...”

“Skjor,” she smiled and kissed him.

He buried his face in her neck. “I don't want to get up.”

She laughed, her breasts tickling his chest. “So don't.”

“Maeve's expecting us, whelp.” He traced his lips up the curve of her neck and over her jawline.

“And we're both so disgusting.”

They giggled like children as they helped each other wash. Skjor made her shriek when he snapped the towel at her, sending water flying every which way. She splashed him and he pinned her against the wall. Her moans rang throughout the room as he rubbed the rough material over her soft skin. A sigh escaped her lips as he nipped her neck.

"You're all clean, whelp."

She whined at him, making him laugh as he wiped the dirt and grime off his body. Turning away, she grabbed her satchel and searched for her clothes, and his.

Nayna donned a pair of clean leggings, her favorite long blue silky tunic and her best leather vest. She would just have to deal with the boots being a little dirty. 

She ran her comb through her damp hair and rebraided it, watching Skjor dress in a pair of nicer trousers and a light green tunic with a leather over shirt. The sleeves extended a little past his shoulders, highlighting his bicep muscles. Holding her hair in one hand, she reached over and squeezed the muscle with her other, grinning up at him.

He laughed. “What are you doing, whelp?”

“I like your muscles.”

He shook his head at her and gazed back down at her. She lowered her eyes, still smiling as she worked her hair into the braid.

He stood at the door with his hands on his hips. "Well?"

"Almost done."

She clasped the tie through her hair and bounced over to him in a bundle of nervous energy. The sex had taken the edge off her anxiety, but it returned with a vengeance. Skjor must have sensed it for he planted a kiss on her mouth, working her lips apart for his tongue. They broke the kiss, smiling at each other.

"Time to go, whelp."

Skjor threaded his fingers through hers, making her heart soar. Together they walked down the stairs, trading the warmth of the tavern for the chilled evening air. 

"She lives just over here, whelp."

Nayna allowed Skjor to lead her towards a house at the end of the path. She swallowed hard and took a deep, ragged breath as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

His voice was soft and endearing. "It's all going to be okay, whelp. Maeve will love you."

The door opened and the scents of roasting venison, butter and a well cared for hearth rolled over them. Nayna found herself with her nose in the air, inhaling the wafting smells above. A tall, blonde haired woman with a sharp nose and startling blue eyes stood at the opened door, a small baby on her hip. Her pinched, harried face broke out into a grin as she saw Skjor and she let out a whooping holler. The bald baby wailed in response.

Nayna couldn't see Skjor's face from where she was standing, but she imagined he was grinning at his sister, whose arm slung about his neck as she kissed his cheek. 

"Hush, Hilda, hush!" Maeve said as she shifted the babe higher on her hip. "Oh, Skjor, I can't believe you're here! Two years is far too long. Come in!"

Skjor laughed and stepped over the threshold, pulling Nayna along with him. "Sister, when you're as busy as I am--"

"--bah! Stuff and nonsense."

The house was warm and cozy. It reminded her of her childhood home with her mother and Markarth. A tall, black bearded man sat before the fire with his almost grown son beside him, equally tall, but with hair the same shade as Maeve's. The man laughed and clapped his boy on the back who grinned a sheepish grin up at his father.

Skjor dropped her hand and strode over to the hearth while Nayna hovered at the door. 

“Look who's here,” Maeve cried and the man and boy both turned.

“Uncle Skjor!”

“Look at you, runt. Taller than I am. Soon you'll be bigger too,” Skjor grinned and clapped the boy in a tight squeeze.

Skjor shook his brother-in-law's hand, while Maeve stood between the two men, looking between them. The baby fussed and rooted into Maeve's shoulder. 

Her heart ached for the family she never had. None of her siblings would ever greet her as such, none of her nieces or nephews either. She looked down at the toe of her boots, trying not to think about her father and stepmonster or about Solveig and Markarth. She dared not even clear her throat, lest she draw attention to herself. She crumpled the hem of her tunic in her hand, in hopes of distracting herself.

And then Skjor's gaze cut across the room, centering on her and his smile widened. Maeve and her husband followed Skjor's line of sight and focused on Nayna. Without realizing it, she took a step backwards and her shoulders bumped into the closed door. Breathe, just breathe. Panic bubbled up her throat as Maeve picked her way over and Nayna swallowed her fear down, half smiling in Maeve's direction.

She returned a bright smile to Nayna and held out her hand. "You must be Nayna. I'm Maeve. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She took Nayna's trembling hand and gave her a reassuring, warm squeeze as she pulled Nayna towards the hearth.

“Come on boys, now we're being terribly rude to Nayna.”

She flushed and shook her head. “Oh no, I wouldn't want to get in the way.”

“Nonsense! This is Skjor's woman, Nayna. Nayna this is my husband Alfgeir and our son Eirik. And this little girl is Ragnhild.” She bounced the baby and kissed the crown of black hair. 

Alfgeir reached out and shook her hand. "Heil."

She licked her lips and cleared her throat, praying her voice wouldn't warble. It didn't. "Heil."

Eirik lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave and Nayna's heart went out to him. He was just as anxious as she was. She smiled at him instead.

Maeve handed the baby over to Alfgeir. "Now, supper is almost ready, why don't you two sit down and make yourselves comfortable?"

"Do you need help with anything?" Nayna's voice was soft, barely audible, but Maeve shook her head.

Skjor snorted. "You can't even cook!"

Nayna rooted herself to the spot and looked down at her hands, trying to hide the sting. When she looked back up Maeve was glaring daggers at Skjor.

"Enough. Go sit, both of you!"

She followed him to the table and settled in a chair next to him. He leaned back, draping his arm over the back of her chair, fingers curling around her arm. Nayna sat stiff, with her hands folded in her lap as Skjor and Alfgeir exchanged pleasantries. 

Alfgeir placed the baby in her cradle and sat across from Skjor. "What brings your sad ass up this way, brother?"

Maeve called from the kitchen. "Gold!"

Skjor grinned. "Always coin, brother. Seems the Jarl needs help with a delicate matter and only trusts the Companions for the job."

Maeve walked over with the pot of steaming venison. Eirik followed behind her carrying plates and cutlery. 

Alfgeir inhaled. "Looks good, woman. You may have outdone yourself."

Maeve's smile was sweet as she gazed at her husband. "I try."

Eirik set a plate in front of Nayna and she thanked him with a whisper and he half smiled, half grimaced at her. 

Maeve brought over a dish of buttered leeks and mashed potatoes and set them on the table as well. Eirik handed his mother a carving knife and a two pronged fork. "Eirik go grab some mead for everyone, please. Husband, why don't you have Skjor do the honors? "

For a moment, Nayna was back at the tiny shack in Rorikstead, her own blonde mother offering Markarth the fork and knife. Her going away meal, little Nayna... Naenja, for that was before she became Nayna... Little Naenja wondering how they afforded the plump roast. Markarth gave her the biggest cut of the juicy meat, and her eyes stared at him in wonder. 

"Just for you, my love," he had said and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

And then they'd sent her away...

"I'm sorry?" Nayna gasped.

Maeve chuckled. "I said would you like some potato?"

Nayna held up her plate, allowing Maeve to spoon the potatoes and leeks in respectable portions. Skjor had already plopped a sizeable chunk of roast on her plate. She placed it back on the table and smiled at Maeve. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble at all, dear. I've waited so long to meet you!"

Nayna flushed and placed her napkin in her lap. Eirik returned and placed the mead in front of each of them before taking his seat.

Skjor looked at her funny. "What are you doing?"

"Beg pardon?"

"What are you doing with your napkin, whelp?"

She flushed again. Of course she'd made another mistake. She balled the napkin between her fists, squeezing and then releasing it along with the breath she hadn't realized she'd held in. She folded it and placed it back on the table.

No one else had noticed and for that Nayna was grateful. Skjor tried to rub his fingers over her arm but she pulled away. His brow furrowed, but Maeve distracted him by heaping more leeks on his plate.

He sighed. "Really?"

"Yes. Now I have a question for the both of you."

"Hmm?"

"When are you two getting married?" Maeve waved her fork between the two of them.

Skjor choked on his mead, coughing and spluttering. Oh sweet revenge to see him as uncomfortable as she felt. Nayna put the napkin up to her lips, giggling. Alfgeir pounded Skjors back, a hearty grin splitting his beard.

“Don't start, little girl.” Skjor said, shaking his fork at her, but she laughed him off.

“Okay, I won't....When are you two having babies?”

Nayna blanched. It was fun watching Skjor flustered for once, but she could hardly stand it. Two weeks now and no blood. Skjor squinted at his sister and shook his head. “I told you don't start.”

“Oh come on, I'd love a few more nieces and nephews! Gods know I never see Anja's son or Finja's girls.”

Skjor sighed heavily and put his fork down on his plate. “Yeah, well, you just may.”

Maeve's brows knitted together. “And why is that, big brother?”

“Finja.”

Her face fell. “Oh gods, please don't....”

Skjor's face was heavy. “Yeah, it's true.”

“Damn her! Damn Stein! Those poor girls! Have you told Anja?”

Skjor shook his head. “No, but Freya let it slip when Anja visited a few weeks past. The fit she threw was...legendary.”

“No kidding...So now what?”

Skjor shrugged. “Pray for a miracle?”

“Who's going to get the girls?”

“I love Finja, I love her girls, but I can't. Anja would, but she feels like she's getting too old and weary.”

Maeve snorted. “Old and weary? She's younger than you! And look at you too, aren't you just delicious still?”

Nayna pressed her lips together, the better not to laugh. Alfgeir caught her eye and winked at her, which was just too much for the giggle escaped into her waiting hand. Skjor glared at her, but she just shook her head at him.

“See? Nayna thinks so too. And it's a rare woman who loves a headstrong, ornery ass like yourself. You should marry her and terrectly!”

“Maeve,” Skjor whined and Nayna giggled more. “What about Finja?”

Maeve grunted and sawed off a chunk of venison. “Finja is a grown woman and it happened. What else can we do but go on with our lives? She made her choice. We can either spend the rest of her life miserable and chewing on it or we can make merry and enjoy our days with her and each other. Now, I heard one of the priests from the Temple of Mara is in Solitude....”

"Maeve!" Skjor barked, his well of patience finally dried up. "Stop."

"Sorry big brother," she said, mollifying him. "I just want to see you happy. Both of you." She smiled between Nayna and Skjor, but her hand came to rest on Nayna's and she squeezed again.

Skjor's arm was still draped around her and he grasped her braid from under her arm, fingers toying with the ends. "I've never been happier, sister."

Again, Nayna flushed and his words were like a balm to the sting of her heart. She gazed over at him smiling her sweetest smile. "Me too."

 

Later that night as she lay, writhing under his thrusting body, she thought about marrying him. Her mother and Markarth hadn't married each other and yet they'd been so startlingly happy together. While her father and stepmonster were married and were completely miserable. Maeve and Alfgeir seemed content, it was true, but more often than not, marriage wasn't all that great. Aside from the man her father had tried to force her to marry, she hadn't given much thought to it at all. Same when it came to having babies. Almost thirteen days now...For the midnight hour was close, she felt the pull of the nearly full Masser. For now, she wanted things to stay the way they were, forever. Even though she knew her happiness was a fleeting thing, like a feather floating on the wind.


	24. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, wow over 100 views! I don't have words for how I feel right now. Perhaps a mixture of pleased, anxious, excited and thrilled. Thank you, for those of you who have read the story so far. Thank you to those who've left kudos and thank you for the comment. Feedback is an author's best friend. I welcome all kinds of feedback, especially constructive criticism. I'm always looking to improve as a writer, and as I said in the opening, some of my earlier chapters need a rewrite. But thank you for sticking it through this long and I hope you'll continue to stick with me until the end. Whenever that is! (Insert wincing face here!) Thank you again to all my readers, old and new!  
> Also, I realize this chapter isn't nearly as polished as I would like, but I feel like I needed to get something out and get the story moving, otherwise I'd stall too long and I definitely don't want this falling by the wayside!

As if they were making up for lost time, Skjor took her twice that night and once the next morning. They giggled like a pair of newlyweds, as they re-explored each other in the faint, pink light of the dawn. It was now day thirteen and her moons blood was nowhere in sight.

Nayna lay, panting and spent on the bed as Skjor grunted and hobbled his way across the room to the washbasin. The sounds of dripping water and wet cloth slapping skin carried over and she smiled at the image of a wet Skjor. She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow, her head resting on her hand, gazing at her lover.

"When do we leave for Solitude, love?" Her voice was husky and hoarse and Skjor glanced over at her with a wide grin.

He rubbed a hand over the shadowy hair on his jaw. "In the afternoon, whelp. Going to see Maeve first and then we'll head on."

Skjor picked his razor from his bag along with a bar of soap. His gaze met hers in the mirror and he smiled again, making her heart flutter, which only made him smile wider.

She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the tavern overwhelm her senses. Vilkas said the beastblood was a curse, but Nayna did not find it so. If she were being honest with herself, she took it because of Skjor, but now she was glad she did. Farkas was right. Everything was bigger, better, more exhilrating. She felt alive with the beast in ways she never had before. Skjor was right too, who cared about Sovngarde when she had the power she needed right then and there? What had Aela called it? A mead swilling afterlife.

Then she thought of Kodlak and guilt flooded her. Kodlak cared about that mead swilling afterlife. Kodlak wanted Sovngarde and he was no closer to it than before. Vilkas wanted to be rid of it. Nayna saw how it tortured the man. 

And what would happen if she was pregnant? Would the child carry the beastblood as well? Could she do that to an innocent babe? Nayna thought about Maeve's baby, Hilda. What would happen if Hilda had the blood? Would she turn at will or would she be able to control it? Or would she never have the blood at all? It was a gamble, and Nayna wasn't so sure if it was one she wanted to take, not to mention Skjor's feelings on the matter as well. 

Her eyes flew open as she felt Skjor's weight on the bed and his calloused hand cupping her knee. 

She smiled a weak smile and shook her head. "Not looking forward to this, if I'm being perfectly honest."

He snorted and leaned in to kiss her. "I'd rather be here in bed."

Of course he would. "I love you, you idiot."

He raised his brows. "You know, aside from Morthal, I think that's the first time you've said that to me without me saying it first, whelp."

She snorted. "I said it to you yesterday!"

He kissed her again. "It doesn't count if I'm fucking you."

"Go away," she laughed and pushed him away with her feet. 

"Alright, alright, but hurry up and get dressed, whelp. We've got to get going."

 

After bidding Maeve and her family farewell, they set off for Solitude. She grunted as she mounted Raye. Gods, it would take some getting used to again. She'd always been an excellent horsewoman, but two years out of a saddle and then nearly a week straight in it was doing nothing for her ass. Skjor smirked back at her, but she merely sniffed and guided Raye ahead.

As much as she loved the cool weather of Skyrim, she appreciated days like this, where her cloak was unnecessary and packed away in her bag. One of the things she missed most about Daggerfall was the temperate weather. And the soothing melody of the choppy waves crashing into the rocks near her father's country home.

She shaded her eyes against the blaring sun, watching Skjor ride ahead of her to catch up with the Solitude guards. She held back, her gaze turned steady on the green sea below, slapping rough frothing waves over the docks. When she closed her eyes, the memories smacked over her, flowing and ebbing with the tide. A flash of her mothers stormy eyes, the heavy footfalls of the works aboard the ship, and the firm grip of her father's heavy hand dragging her away.

Scurried movement below brought her back to shore and she squinted, the mirage of a familiar head pacing the dock. She pulled Raye to a stop and slid from the mares back, eyes never leaving the pier as she looped the reigns around a random tree trunk. Her heart thumped its way up to her throat and she swallowed several times as she crept closer to the stairs.

It was early afternoon, and the harbor was close to empty, aside from the man below. He rounded the corner out of sight and Nayna thrust herself down the stairs, taking them two at a time, hoping he wouldn't get too far out of sight.

When she reached the bottom she froze, unable to take another step. 

Gods....how could she have forgotten what Solitude was to her? Too many buried memories...

She was seven years old again. The day was overcast, dreary and wet. The heavy chill of the misty fog blanketed the otherwise lively city of Solitude. She held on to Markarth—no he was still her Da at that time—she held his hand so tight, her own fingers ached. Her mother walked behind them, making no noise aside from the occasional throat clearing.

They stepped on to the docks, where Mama's little cousin, Gareth, worked. Only he wasn't so little at fifteen, already as tall as Mama herself and as tall as her Da. Naenja curled herself closer to his leg and he rested his hand on the crown of her head, shushing her.

She was wearing a brand new dress. One that they couldn't afford. It was soft and gray, shimmering in the sun with a darker hair ribbon to match. She even had new shoes and her mother's amulet of Talos tucked under the lace at the neckline of her dress. The favored amulet that had belonged to her mother's father, sent back by Hoag Stormcloak himself.

She clutched her traveling bag in her right hand. It was full to the brim with her little mementos and relics. A tiny pearl, wrapped in hair ribbons. Her favorite stuffed puppy, worn and hastily stitched back together. The pillowslip her late grandmother had sewn for her husband. Dresses, stockings, small clothes, letters. And the most important thing, the silky scrap of fabric she rubbed to her lips at night, folded into a neat square, stuffed inside of a deep pocket.

"There he is," her Mama muttered.

They all glanced up to see a dark haired man advancing down the ramp of the ship, his hard, cold eyes staring unabashed at them all. Naejna buried her head into her Da's leg, and he smoothed his big hand over her hair. 

"Come on," her Mama grumbled and tugged on her Da's arm. He pushed little Naenja ahead and she stumbled along with them.

"Solveig..." While the man spoke Common, his accent was heavy and gutteral, unlike the gentle lilting of her Da and Mama. Naenja curled her tiny fist into her Da's trousers.

"Lord Eddowyn," her Mama replied, clearing her throat.

The man's heady gaze fell upon Naenja, who peeked out at him with one brown eye....An eye much like his own. 

"Is this....?" He gestured to her and her Mama nodded.

"This is Naenja...Naenja Strong-Wind....Come on, sweetheart..." Her Mama said with clenched teeth as she tried to unwind Naenja's arms from around her Da's leg without much luck.

The man stepped forward. “I want my payment Solveig.”

Her mother gasped. “Payment for what?”

“For taking it off your hands.”

“It? She's your daughter, you--”

“--if I were you, I'd watch my tongue.”

Her mother pressed her lips together. “I have nothing for you Eddowyn.”

“The bow.”

Her mother gasped. “No! That was my father's bow. It's worth--”

“--it's the bow or I leave her behind.”

Her mother handed over the polished ebony bow. The man sneered in triumph and snatched it from her hand. Mama turned to glare at her and she buried her face into her Da's leg. 

"It is time to go, Nayna." Lord Eddowyn said, not even bothering to glance up from admiring the elegant carvings on the bow.

“No, it's pronounced Naenja. Nae...nyuh.”

He furrowed his brow. “Bring her forth.”

“Naenja, this is your father,” said Mama, motioning to the black and grey haired cold man in front of her. His eyes were brown, like hers. But they lacked the warmth and playfulness of her own.

“No,” she whimpered hugging her Da's leg. “My Da is right here.”

“He's not your father. Come on, let him go,” Mama grunted as she pried Naenja away and shoved her towards the cold, cruel man.

She stumbled forward and he looked her up and down. “Hmmph.”

Naenja trembled, holding her bag tight to her chest. If only her Mama would hold her...But Mama hadn't held her in a long time.

“Come Nayna,” the man her mama called her father said. There was nary an ounce of love or warmth in his voice.

She shook her head and the man rolled his eyes finally coming forward to grab her arm to drag her towards the waiting ship.

“No!” She screamed and scrambled from his grasp. She threw herself into her Da's arms, where he held her tight.

He looked at his wife and shook his head furiously. “Solveig...”

“She has to go.”

Her Da set her down and stroked her rounded cheeks, tucked her dark hair behind her small ears and kissed the small slightly upturned freckled nose.

“My own love,” he sighed and grasped her shoulders. “I know this is hard, but you're a big, strong girl. You're brave and smart and beautiful and you are loved. Your mama and I will be fine because you are going to be just fine, my little love.”

He reached up and swiped the tears from her eyes. “Now look at me. Stop crying and show me those pretty dimples. That's a good girl. Everything will be great.”

He kissed her dimples and stood up, one hand on the top of her head. She clutched the bag with her things to her chest, trembling in the cool morning air.

She hiccuped and looked over at her mother who was steadfastly avoiding her eyes, instead glaring at the other man. Finally her Mama spoke. “Will you just take her away for Gods sake? Just take her.”

It was Gareth who pulled her from her Da's arms. She screamed and sobbed, reaching for him, for her mother.

“Mama, no! Please no! Mama don't send me away. I promise I'll be a good girl. Please don't! Please.”

But Mama had turned away and was walking slowly up the stairs of the docks, clutching her shawl around her shoulders.

“Da! Daddy! No, no please, take me home Daddy. Please....” She sobbed as Gareth lifted her over his shoulder, rubbing her back.

“You're going to be fine, love. Be my brave girl,” her Da called out, and even at seven she heard the warble in his voice and saw the heartbreak written on his face. She only sobbed louder.

“Hey, pup, it's gonna be alright,”Gareth murmured as he carried her on board. She fell limp against him, finally admitting defeat.

She didn't mean to be bad. She knew climbing that tree was a bad idea. She wanted another chance to be good. But there would never be another chance.

 

“Can I help you?”

Nayna turned and suddenly she was twenty-eight again, but she was looking at a face she hadn't seen since she was seven. Gareth. His gray eyes squinted but then they widened as he recognized her.

“Naenja? Little Naenja?”

She stared at Gareth, not saying at word, just looking into those squinting gray eyes, her mother's eyes. They looked nothing alike, aside from the shared hair color they both had from Hundr the Greatheart himself.

The thundering of a horse echoed above them, racing along the path. Skjor must have finally realized she was missing. Raye tossed her head impatiently as Skjor and Fakur came cantering down the road.

Skjor called out. “Nayna?”

She turned, looking between her old life and the new. Her fingers grasped the railing for support as her breathing quickened.

“Naenja...” Gareth's voice was soft as he approached her, inching closer as if she were nothing more than a spooked horse.

“Nayna!” There was no mistaking Skjor's urgent tone as he dismounted Fakur. Gravel crunched under his boots as he hurried towards the stairs.

“Naenja...” He was nearly touching her now and she backed up. Her foot caught on the edge of the stairs and she fell hard on her rump. Gareth reached for her, to help her and she flipped over, scrambling up the stairs, towards Skjor.

His anxious stare found her scurrying to him and he grasped her arm, pulling her the rest of the way up. “Whelp, what happened?”

 

Nayna covered her face with her hand, shaking her head as she whizzed past him.

“Naenja!” Gareth's voice carried with the wind and Skjor stopped. Nayna unhitched Raye from the tree with trembling hands and pulled herself up into the saddle with great effort. She clapped her feet into the horse's sides and off they went with Skjor and Gareth both calling out to her.

 

Skjor caught her just before the gates to Solitude. He grasped the reigns and pulled Raye to a stop.

She shook her head, staring straight. “Don't.”

“Whelp...”

“Please, Skjor.” Her voice cracked and wavered and so he ran his hand down her back. When she glanced at his face her heart was warmed by the soft, gentle expression aimed at her. A half smiled appeared on her lips and he reached out, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“May I take your horses?” The stable master cut in, and they broke apart.

“Yes, thank you.” Skjor said and tossed the man a small bag of septims. They both dismounted and watched as he led the horses to the stable.

“Let's get a room at the inn,” Skjor murmured, his hand curling on her hip. She nodded and followed him inside the city and then inside the inn, waiting on the side as he rented a bed for them.

Skjor turned and handed her the key. “Go upstairs and lie down. I'll be up in a bit.”

Nayna nodded and climbed the stairs and she slipped into the quiet, dark room. It smelled of dust and crushed thistle. She settled herself on the bed and loosened the laces of her vest, kicking off her riding boots. She lay back on the bed, closing her eyes, hanging on to the hum of activity below, letting it lull her into sleep.

Skjor shook her awake a little while later, his hand on her hip, thumb stroking up and down. The scents of soup and freshly baked bread filled her head, making her stomach growl and roll at the same time. Opening her eyes, she smiled at the worry lining Skjor's own face. She smoothed the wrinkles from his forehead, and he scooped her into his arms for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Whelp, are you...?”

She shook her head. “I'm fine. I'll...He was...”

“Related to you?”

“What?” She gasped.

“Same hair color, and you balked. Just like every time someone brings up your mother or your family.”

“Can we not talk about this? I don't...”

He kissed her forehead and sighed. “There is something I want to talk to you about....and....I hate to bring this up now, but....Nayna...”

Her heart sunk at his use of her name. “Please, I don't want to talk about--”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “--when was the last time you bled?”

Thirteen days. Her lips folded into a thin line and she drew in a shaky breath. When she opened her mouth to speak, the only sound that came from her lips was a soft sob. Skjor's arms tightened around her, his big hand pressed her face into his neck and the tears poured, thick and fast, wetting the collar of his shirt.

He stroked her hair and sighed into the crown of her head. “We'll figure this out, whelp....”


	25. The Scare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize, again, this isn't as polished as it should be, but I'm attempting to bang out this story so the bug doesn't lose me. Unfortunately, it's been a busy week IRL, so I haven't been able to write as much as I want, and I feel quite out of practice. But hopefully, we'll be back to our regular schedule, soon!

His fingertips trailed down her belly and over the curve of her hip. “We could, you know...”

She forced her eyes open and her lips spread into a slow, languid grin, seeing his focus on his wayward hand. “We could what?”

He cupped her hip, the rough of his palm resting against the rise while his thumb traced anxious circles over the jutting bone. “Have a baby.”

She froze. If she said the wrong thing...She swallowed and reached over, caressing his weathered face. Once she had thought he wasn't particularly handsome, but now he was as dazzling as the sun. “Is that what you want, love?”

His thumb stopped and his gazed turned upwards to look into her questioning glance. “Is that something you would want?”

“To be honest, I'd never really given it a thought, my own love. I'd always assumed I would one day. No one, aside from you, has ever asked me what I want. I don't really know.”

Skjor skimmed his hand down her leg and she closed her eyes again, allowing him to pull her leg over his hip. His stiff erection pressed into her sex, the heat of his body mingling with hers as she pressed her lips together. He hovered around her entrance and her breathing quickened with anticipation as she inched her way closer to him. And then he forced himself inside with a quick, hard thrust making her gasp in a mixture of pain, pleasure and need. 

“Skjor,” she panted in his ear as he drove in her again and again. Arching her back, she pressed her breasts against his chest, enjoying the scrape of his hair rubbing against her sensitive nipples. 

With every thrust, she felt his backside stiffen under her calf. He buried his face into her neck and growled, “So tight. Gods, whelp.”

He reached between their heaving bodies and his thumb rubbed her most sensitive spot, sending her into convulsing bliss. Nayna's cries rang through out the room, and surely carried down into the tavern, but neither of them cared.

Afterward, they lay entangled in each others arms. Skjor groaned into her neck.

“What is it?” She mumbled, close to sleep.

“Forgot to pull out,” he grunted.

She sighed and closed her eyes. “No matter.”

Sleep over took her, hard and fast. And when she woke, Skjor was gone and the room was darkened, lacking the candlelight.

Rolling out of bed, she lit the candles with her magic and dressed in the flickering light. Of course he'd left without her. Damnable man. She yanked the comb through her hair, tearing several strands free. Finally she gave up, hurling the comb away. It hit the wall and slid behind the table. Whatever. 

She made her way down to the tavern and sighed. Sitting alone in Solitude made Nayna feel jittery. Bad enough she could barely sit still with the wolf's constant pacing and arching and growling all itching inside of her, but add in the fourteenth day of no moons blood and the constant fear of running into Gareth or General Tullis and Nayna's teeth were positively on edge.

Skjor had gone on to meet with Jarl Elisif without her. Asshole. And so she found herself in the back corner of the tavern, listening to the bard singing the Age of Aggression, one of Mikael's favorites. She pushed her meatloaf around on the plate, sighing. 

“We'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own,  
With our blood and our steel, we will take back our home.  
Down with Ulfric, the killer of kings,  
On the day of your death we drink and we sing  
We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives,  
And when Sovngarde beckons, everyone of us dies.”

Nayna glanced over at the bard, frowning and shuddering. Flashes of Ulfric Stormcloak sitting next to her in the cart. Of General Tullis standing at the base of the tower, snarling in Ulfric's face. The big black dragon that she saw every night in her dreams. She dropped her fork on her plate and pushed her chair away. She swallowed the lump in her throat and headed for the door.

Relief washed over her as she stepped into the cool, evening air. The stalls and shops were closing for the day and people were rushing to get home to their families before dark. Nayna envied them. She had the Companions, but it wasn't the same. Skjor was the closest thing she had to a family. And even then, that too was uncertain. She hadn't forgotten his hunting escapades with Aela. Gods, she felt stupid and alone. Why had Skjor gone without her? It hurt her terribly and she cleared her throat, attempting to rid herself of the horrible lump that had popped up back in the tavern.

Nayna stopped near one of the houses when she saw a familiar figure ahead. The beast within screamed danger before she recognized the man. Fuck, it was General Tullis himself. How could she have forgotten his voice? And how could she have forgotten that Castle Dour was headquartered to the Legion? Shit, shit. She yanked her hood over her lowered head and hurried past him. 

“Sir?” A female voice called from directly in front of Nayna. She glanced up to see an older woman, whose lined face furrowed into a concentrated frown. The woman was wearing Legionnare armor and holding a piece of paper and staring down at it with such intensity, Nayna was surprised it hadn't caught on fire.  
“What is it Rikke?” General Tullis snapped from behind her and the Nord woman in question looked up.  
“Sir, I just had disturbing news from Fort Snowhawk. It seems as if Ulfric's forces are closing in and their number--”  
Tullis's boots thumped on the gravel and her beast roared. Nayna followed her instinct and her eyes whipped around for an escape. For an alleyway....There!

Down the alleyway she went, the better to avoid Tullis. Too nervous, too busy looking over her shoulder, she missed the man in front of her until she was nearly upon him. They both stumbled and he put his hands on her shoulders. She caught a whiff of his breath on the wind and had to put a hand over her mouth to hide her gagging. He looked up at her, snaggletoothed and sour and before she could blink there was a knife at her throat. Grappling was no use, for he was stronger than she, even with her beast powers. Her beast, who lurked beneath the surface, growling as it had been for the past half an hour. He had her pressed against the wall, grasping her shirt, raising her to her tiptoes.

She turned her face away, cringing as he murmured in her ear. “Your day is coming, dog.”

“What?” She gasped, gagging again as she tasted the putridness of his breath.

“Don't think I don't know who you are, bitch. I saw you and your mate at Dustman's Cairn. I barely escaped with my life,” he hissed and her neck cracked with force as she pulled back.

“That one isn't my mate,” she grunted, finding it hard to breathe with his arm crushing her chest.

He laughed and the nausea rolled over her again. “It doesn't fucking matter, bitch. Every dog has his day and I fear yours is up soon, little whore.”

She swallowed and the tip of the knife dug into her throat. “Cowards. All of you. Fearing what you don't underst--”

“--shut up, bitch! Go report back to your Alpha that there will be a reckoning and you all will die by the Silver Hand.”

He dropped her to the ground and kicked her in the ribs for good measure. She groaned and grabbed her side, where she'd been stabbed at Morthal. 

The sounds of his footsteps faded as she rolled onto her back, panting. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. 

A guard wandered down the alley and saw her laying on the nasty ground. “Hey! You there! No lollygagging.”

Nayna sat up, clutching her ribs, glaring at the guard. “Yeah I'm fine, thanks for asking.” And under her breath she muttered, “Asshole.” 

He stepped over her and continued down the alley. Nayna groaned and pushed herself up. She had to find Skjor. 

At least the man hadn't kicked her in the belly.....

It took her near on ten minutes to raise herself up enough to head towards the Blue Palace. Her legs still felt like gelatin, but she was able to keep weight on them. Nayna kept glancing over her shoulder for the horrid, smelly man, but there was no one. The sky was a deep purple, signaling the citizens for suppertime. The fact that the man was able to sneak upon her, even with the beastblood unnerved her and so she kept moving on her shaky legs.

Of course there was also the possibility she would run into Gareth or General Tullis, but at that point at least she might be safe. She stopped to catch her breath near the Hall of the Dead. She leaned against the stonework, eyes closed as she counted her breaths. Gareth and his mother lived over the next ridge. She could knock and apologize. If Gareth hadn't surprised her so....She probably still would have ran. 

“I said, no lollygagging.” 

Nayna opened her eyes to find the same guard standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. She rolled her eyes and pushed herself upright, pushing past the guard who yelled “Hey watch it!”

 

At the Blue Palace, court had been dismissed for the night. Nayna tried to gain an audience with even the steward, but she was turned away. And so she went back to their room at the tavern and lay down, falling asleep almost instantly.

The sounds of banging and groaning woke her up and she rolled over, seeing a hulking mass of man stumbling in.

“Where have you been?” She cried as Skjor staggered to the bench.

She smelled the blood....His blood before she saw his outline in the dark. Lighting the candles as she stood, she gasped when she saw him. There was a large, gaping wound on his bicep, his armor had been pierced in three different places, and Nayna could smell the distinct scent of smoked meat and thunder. He limped over to a chair and collapsed into it. 

She scrambled over to her bag and pulled out several magicka potions, linen and healing potions. 

“What happened?!”

“Big cave,” Skjor slurred. She shined the candlelight into his good eye. His pupil stayed the same size. Great, he hit his head too. Inside, the wolf howled and clawed, ever determined to get to its mate and 

Nayna had to close her eyes to gain control. His hand cupped her face, bringing the human back to the surface. He was smiling stupidly at her. “I hope its a girl.”

“I hope you've still got some brains left,” she sobbed, pressing the linen to his wound with a trembling hand. She grasped his other hand and clasped it around the cloth. 

“Hold it there, tight. Now drink this.” She tipped the red potion back into his mouth and he coughed and spluttered, but drank it down all the same.

Her trembling, stiff fingers unbuckled his battered chestplate and it clanged on the floor after slipping from her hands. She pushed up his shirt, her heart thumping, threatening to beat right out of her chest. 

The gashes on his chest and belly were all superficial, thank goodness for Eorlund's armor. She swallowed and tipped more potion back into his mouth before untying his boots and yanking them off to reveal a mangled, bloody foot. Her belly rolled and the wolf snarled. She pulled more linen and wiped the blood from his foot as best as she could, shuddering at the shredded skin, and the toes bent at an unreasonable angle. She closed her eyes, stamping on the wolf as she pulled up her magicka. His foot first. She could always sew his bicep up, and he could always sleep off the concussion. 

Nayna worked on healing his foot, pushing all thoughts and panic away. Finally, she was able to coax him into bed, with his foot resting on several pillows, as she worked on cleaning and healing the rest of him with shaky, unsteady hands. She sat beside him, holding his hand as he slept, ignoring the swell of anger and pain.

The next morning they made their way towards Dragon Bridge at her insistence. She tried to get him to stay an extra day, but Skjor wouldn't have it. Fuming, she watched Skjor limp over to Fakur and mount with great effort. She angled Raye towards him and pressed her fingers to his bicep. The stitches still held, thank goodness.

But as they went on, it was clear to her that Skjor wasn't up for the travel. She lightly suggested stopping at Maeve's and he gave his grumbling consent. It was even worse when he almost fell while trying to dismount his horse. He drunkenly stumbled across the stables and Nayna wrapped an arm about his waist and draped his arm across her shoulders. He complained loudly that she was treating him like a child, but he allowed her to lead him across the town to Maeve's house.

She knocked sharply three times. They didn't have to wait long as Maeve opened the door and peered at them. She took one look at Skjor and shook her head. “Come on, in you get,” she said, getting on Skjor's other side.

“I'm fine,” Skjor grunted, but Maeve's sharp blue eyes knew better.

“Come, lie down brother.”

“I said--”

“--this is not a request. Either you lie down on your own or I'll have Eirik and Alfgeir tie you to the bed.”

Skjor's nostrils flared briefly and he turned to glare at Nayna, whose eyes had narrowed in the meantime. Her face felt flaming hot, and her breathing came in rapid spurts. Skjor's face softened and he sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

He allowed Maeve to lead him back to Eirik's bed and then allowed Nayna to help him remove his armor and tuck him in the bed. It took him mere minutes to fall into a deep, snoring sleep with Nayna standing vigil. 

Alfgeir carried in a chair for her and she sat down with a grimace of thanks. He patted her on the back and kissed her temple, leaving the two of them alone. 

Nayna started awake at the feeling of something sliding down her cheek, repeatedly. Skjor's fingers glided from her cheek to trace her lips. He smiled a sweet, endearing smile at her and her anger began to swell.

“How could you do that to me?” Her voice warbled and trembled as she tried to speak soft. “You reckless ass...You selfish ass! You almost...” And her voice broke as the tears tumbled from her lashes, down her cheeks, rolling over his thumb.

“Nayna...”

“No!” She whimpered, pulling away. “I don't know what manly thing you were attempting back there, but you were foolish. Whatever the Jarl sent you to do, you should have sent for me and we could have gone together. Gods damn you, Skjor!”

“I didn't want you to get hurt,” he mumbled.

“So instead you nearly get killed and I get hurt anyway! We don't even know for sure,” she hissed.

“Whelp...”

“I'm so angry with you right now. I'm so very angry and glad and...I'm a mess. You can't do this to me, Skjor. You...can't...die...I need you. I love you. Don't die.”

And he sat up, jerking her on the bed into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, constricting her breath. She lay her head on his heart, squeezing her eyes shut. As much as she wanted to cry, she couldn't. Not there, not then.

“Is everything alright?” Maeve came around the corner, peering in.

“Yeah, we're okay. Thanks, Maeve.” Skjor murmured, his lips never leaving Nayna's hair.

“You're an idiot, brother. Anyway, supper is ready.” Maeve said, throwing her towel over her shoulder. “Come out when you're ready. And please don't dirty up that bed.”


	26. A Little Advice

Nayna left Skjor snoring in Eirik's bed. She was already dressed, so she ducked around the partition, in search of Maeve. But there was only a note on the table and a pair of chubby, thrusting legs in the cradle. She crept over and glanced down at Hilda who lay snuffling in her cradle, a low whine bubbling across her pouty lips. Nayna smiled as she watched the baby kick her fat legs in protest. She let out a low whimper, reaching for Nayna, who glanced around for Maeve. 

But according to the note on the table Maeve had gone to fetch them water while Skjor and Hilda slept. Of course, now Hilda lay awake, big blue eyes pleading with Nayna. And so she bent down and scooped the baby into her arms, the better to avoid a crying fit. She didn't want to wake Skjor, so she snuggled the baby against her chest. Hilda wasn't the first baby she ever held, she had plenty of practice with her nieces and nephews from her sisters. But she was the biggest seven month old.

Again, Hilda snuffled, this time rooting into Nayna's shoulder. Nayna stroked her knuckle down the fat, pink cheek and smiled as the baby turned her head. She offered Hilda her knuckle to suck and the baby whined again, realizing there was no milk. Nayna bounced her up and down, humming as she paced before the fire. She smoothed a hand down the soft, gray colored dress and over the diapered bum, patting in time with her steps and bounces. Hilda calmed down and stuffed her fist in her mouth, peering over Nayna's shoulder.

Skjor seemed to be doing better, which was a huge relief to her. For the past two days she had barely been able to eat or keep anything down. She prayed it was due to her nervous stomach rather than other things. 

Too many things rushed around in her head, too much for her to take in. Skjor's injuries, her missing moons blood, her cousin Gareth, the Silver Hand, General Tullis, the ever looming dragon threat, Skjor hunting with Aela instead of her. It was enough to make her dizzy from the spinning. She swallowed, inhaling deep breaths filled with baby scent. Overwhelmed did not even begin to touch her senses. She was beyond that now.

So engrossed in her thoughts was she, she missed Skjor sneaking in behind her.

“Where'd you get so much practice, whelp?” 

Nayna started and spun around to find Skjor leaning against the door frame, watching her with a soft smile, which she returned as she bounced her way towards him. “Oh, love, you scared me. You should be in bed. Anyway, I have nieces and nephews. I've even changed diapers.”

Skjor laughed, pointedly ignoring her concern. “They didn't have nurses for that?”

Nayna shrugged, shifting Hilda to her other shoulder. “Aye, but sometimes it was just easier and faster to do it myself...You know, I really don't like it when you make fun of my old life in Daggerfall.”

His brow furrowed. “Sorry, whelp.”

“You're forgiven.” She said as she kissed the crown of black hair. She sighed. “Baby smell.”

“Baby smell?” Now Skjor's thick brows raised into his hairline. “What the ever loving hell is baby smell?”

She laughed and held a squirming Hilda out to him. He grunted and took her. Nayna expected awkwardness and fumbling, but Skjor was just as practiced as she. 

“Smell her head.” Nayna rubbed the baby's thigh. Skjor obliged and the corners of his mouth turned down as he tilted his head to the side and said, “Hmm, baby smell.”

She laughed and rubbed Skjor's elbow. “How are you feeling, love?”

“I told you I felt fine two days ago,” he groused.

“Love, you still were dizzy. I'd rather you not crack your head a second time. And are you going to tell me where you went?”

He sighed. “They wanted me to check out wolfskull cave, something about rumors of necromancers raising Potema from the dead.”

“What?” She gasped.

“I thought it would be bandits and the rumors were false. I was wrong.”

“No kidding! What happened?”

“Honestly, whelp,” he said and stroked the baby's head, not able to look Nayna in the eye. “I can't remember. I just know I barely got out of there with my life.”

“What are we going to do about it now?”

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. Damnable man. 

“Pass it along to the Vigilants of Stendarr. It's more their territory than ours.”

“Wait, aren't those the zealots who hunt daedra worshipers?” She left out, like us, but it hung in the air between them.

“Yeah, they are. But I have an old war buddy who I'll send word to. It's not our fight.”

Her eyes fell on the discolored bruise at his temple and she fought back tears. He'd gone in alone. She couldn't understand it. She'd nearly lost him because of some stupid male pride. Nayna rested her forehead against his bicep, one hand on his belly, the other curling around his shoulder.

“Hey, I'm okay, whelp,” he stroked her arm with his free hand.

She drew in a shaking breath. “I know, but...Skjor....”

“I'm tougher than I look,” he teased, making her glare in return.

“Really? Because you look like a gust of wind could knock you on your ass....Fuck, it might do you some good.”

He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Don't be so angry at me, whelp.”

She squared her jaw at him and jerked her head away to look him in the eye. “Why?”

“I told you that I didn't want you to--”

“--no,” she shook her head. “Why are you going hunting with Aela and not me? Do you know how that makes me....it hurts me, Skjor.”

She'd had too much time to think, and instead of thinking about the other numerous problems she should have been focusing on, it was the one problem that vexed her the most.

But he didn't roll his eyes or tell her she was being silly, like she expected. Instead his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. When he spoke his voice wasn't quite pissed, but peppered with annoyance. “Because I want to hunt with someone who appreciates the blood.”

She let her fingers fall slack and skid off his shoulder. She stepped back. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I know what you and Vilkas and Kodlak have been up to.”

Nayna rolled her eyes. “And?”

He picked at the strings on Hilda's dress. “And? Do you regret it?”

“No...But look at them. They suffer. It hurts my heart to watch. Even Vilkas. I've never had trouble with any of it, but he has the blood lust. I can see it whenever I look in his eyes. I see the pain in Kodlaks. He wants to go to Sovngarde when he dies. If I can help him see the way, why not? What harm is there? I promise that no one will be forced to take the cure if they don't want it. That was one of my conditions for Kodlak and he agrees.”

He wouldn't look her in the eye. “Would you take the cure?”

Nayna sighed. “No. But as I said, I'm not plagued by it. It's different for me. I....I get the blood lust, but it's sated with deer and animals....Otherwise, the boons from the blood are....I love it.”

She loved it but she had hesitations she couldn't explain. Who knew if she'd go to Sovngarde when she died, only being half Nord. And Skjor was right about the feeling of power. And it had saved her life in Dustman's Cairn. She knew not what tomorrow would bring. The brashness, the boldness, the power all appealed to her. And then she looked at Skjor and shook her head. Reckless, arrogance and pride. 

“You only took it because of me,” he muttered, bouncing Hilda.

“At first, yes and now I'm glad I did. Skjor, I embrace the blood, just as you do. Please, don't be angry at me. I want Kodlak to be happy. He's.....he's the father I never had.”

Skjor's gaze snapped down to her and he softened. “I know, whelp. Mine too.” He sighed and pulled her closer with his unoccupied arm. “I shouldn't have hurt you like that.”

“I'm not rejecting you by helping Kodlak,” she muttered into his chest.

He stroked her hair. “Sorry, whelp.”

She gazed up at him, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “It's okay, just....I want to run under the moons with you. With my mate.”

Closing her eyes, she could envision them chasing each other all over Haarfinger. They hadn't run together in months and her wolf dearly missed its mate. Pressing into his side, her wolf called out to his and she knew Skjor was feeling the same yearning she was. He growled low in his throat and she entwined her arms about his waist. He was so warm and solid and alive.

He bent down and seized the opportunity to press his mouth to hers and squeeze her tightly to his chest. She dug her fingers into his shirt, fighting both the wolf and her arousal. If only they weren't at his sisters house. How she'd love for him to touch her. 

Hilda shrieked and they broke apart, smiling.

She smiled, feeling lighter and freer. Nayna grasped a chubby baby foot and jiggled it back and forth. “The fuck do you two do anyway?”

He chuckled. “Such a dirty mouth. We hunt....Silver Hand.”

“Oh shit! I forgot to tell you what happened in Solitude.”

She opened her mouth, but Hilda wailed, shoving a fat fist into her mouth, looking at them with those big, ocean blue eyes. Skjor's eyes. 

“I think she's hungry, love.”

“Yeah, I think Maeve keeps some food for her on the table...Is she still getting water?”

Nayna nodded and took Hilda from Skjor.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watchedher bounce the baby.“What happened, whelp?”

She pattered over to the table. Nayna reached for the bowl of mashed peas and set the baby on her leg. As Nayna spoonfed Hilda, she explained about the retched man and his threats. The dagger at her throat. Him kicking her in the ribs. Skjor's brow slipped further and further down, until he was squinting at her. He pushed himself off the wooden frame and strode over to the table, kicking a chair out from under it. She winced and recoiled slightly, but Skjor didn't notice.

He plopped himself down. “Why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

She reached out to touch his arm, her other curling protectively around Hilda. “I'm sorry, love, I forgot because I was worried about you.”

He put his head in his hands. “We need to get back and tell Kodlak.”

Nayna scraped the spoon against the bowl. “We'll leave tomorrow, okay?”

“Whelp....”

She pushed some peas into Hilda's open mouth and then looked up at Skjor, pleading with her eyes. “Love, please humor me. Please. One more night. I don't think they'll try anything, it sounded like he wanted me to bring the message back. Otherwise, he would have just killed me there and then. He had a fucking dagger to my throat.”

He shook his head at her. “How are you so calm right now?”

She shifted her gaze to his face. “Panicking won't help right now.”

“You panic at the sight of a dragur, but death threats? No problem.”

Nayna laughed. “Skjor, there isn't anything I can do about it right now. I already have too much on my mind with you injuring yourself and with my lack of--” The smile faded from her lips. They hadn't discussed it much aside from the comment he'd made in Solitude.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his unshaven face. “How many days has it been now?”

She shrugged. “Sixteen? Seventeen? I've lost count. I just know that my next one should be the sixth of the next month.”

She busied herself, spooning more food into Hilda's mouth.

“It's crazy, whelp. We haven't been together that long...” He sounded wistful, far off. When she looked at him, his lip was trying not to twist into a smile. He was failing and he winked at her with his bad eye, making her giggle.

“Five months, but who's counting?” She teased and then laughed at the scrunched up face Hilda made. “She looks just like you when you're eating leeks.”

“Do you blame us? Peas and leeks are awful.”

“What are we going to do?” She looked up at Skjor and bit her lip. “There are potions....we need to figure this out and soon.”

Skjor grunted. “I don't know, whelp.”

“Do you want it?”

“I don't know that either.”

“You told me you hoped we had a girl back in Solitude.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Did I? I don't remember that.”

“Aye, you did. And I don't know what I want either.”

He stared into the far corner, hand still rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “Our lifestyle isn't exactly conducive for children.”

“No, it's not....But it could work.” Nayna shrugged. “Look at Aela. Her mother was a Companion.”

“She lived in the woods with her father, barely ever saw her mother.”

“What, that's not the ideal for you?”

He laughed. “No, I think not.”

Hilda squirmed and turned her face away from the incoming spoon. Nayna tickled her and when she opened her mouth to laugh Nayna quickly shoved the mashed peas in.“One of us would have to give it up. And it's probably have to be me, you're not exactly househusband material.”

Skjor snorted as green goop dribbled down Hilda's chin.“Hey, I'll have you know I used to braid Maeve's hair when she was little.”

Nayna laughed. “Poor girl in lopsided braids. Hand me a napkin?”

He tossed it to her and they sat in silence as she wiped the mess off Hilda's face. Down the path they could hear Maeve crunching her way back up to the house, cursing under her breath.

Skjor grinned at her. “Speaking of lopsided.”

The door opened and Maeve shuffled in with the waterbucket. Skjor jumped up and snatched it from her, spilling water on the floor. Maeve glared at him, but he thunked the bucket on the table. She turned to look at Nayna and Hilda. She grinned at them.

“Thank you, Nayna.”

Nayna bowed her head. “Of course.”

Maeve sat beside her, smoothing her hand over the baby's flyaway hair. “You seem to have a lot of practice.”

Nayna rolled her eyes. “I can tell you two are related. And yes, I have three nieces and two nephews from my sisters. Plenty of practice. As I was telling your brother, I've even changed a diaper or two in my day.”

Both Skjor and Maeve laughed deep, rich laughs. She glanced between the two, comparing them. They had the same brow, the same kissable mouth, the same eyes. But Maeve's chin jutted out at a sharp angle, while her nose was slight and upturned. But they were more alike in mannerisms than in looks, both cupping their tankards the same way, with one elbow on the table, leaning to the side.

“I was just telling Nayna that I used to braid your hair when you were little.”

Maeve smiled at Skjor. “He did. And he did a fine job. For a man.”

“A boy you mean.”

Maeve held out her arms for Hilda. “You were a man, big brother.”

Nayna handed the baby over with much reluctance. She caught a fat fist and kissed it. Maeve smiled again. “See, big brother, I think she'd make a wonderful mother. So hurry up and have some babies!”

Neither Nayna or Skjor met her eyes. She stared between the two of them and began to laugh again. “Sooner than you hoped?”

The room was getting unbearably hot and she fanned her face to Maeve's snickers. Skjor sighed. “Sister, please.”

Maeve put on a serious, no nonsense face. “Look, my advice to you two is to make up your minds and quick. There is nothing wrong with....the retention of the monthly courses, but there is a hell of a lot wrong with bringing an unwanted baby into this world.”

Nayna looked at her hands, palms up in her lap. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I do.”

Maeve replaced the spoon in the bowl and pushed it away. “Just look at Finja and her two youngest girls. Shameful the way she treats them. It's shameful the way she treats all of them. And then going and getting pregnant again.”

“It's not that bad,” Skjor muttered.

“Not that bad? Finja and Anja didn't have as many chores as Freya does. I don't think I've ever seen that little girl be a little girl.”

“Maeve, Finja's doing the best she can with what little she brings in.”

“You mean with what you and Anja give her.”

Skjor frowned and shrugged at his sister. “I do what I can.”

“I'm sorry, I love you, I love Finja and I adore those girls, but I can't condone giving her money and enabling her any further. They couldn't afford to have a third child and now a fourth because her husband got a knot in his testicles that they needed a boy? For what? Women can do everything a man can.” Maeve sniffed and shifted Hilda to her hip as she stood.

She shook her finger in Skjor's face. “And don't get it through your head to favor one gender over another because you will be disappointed. If the Gods allow it, be happy with whatever they give you.”

Maeve placed a gentle hand on Nayna's back. “I know it's scary, but no matter what, you're family and if you ever need us, sweetheart, we'll be here.”

She flushed and half smiled, half grimaced at Maeve as she passed her by. When Nayna looked up at Skjor, she saw the sweet adoration on his face, and it made her heart soar and her smile wide. 

He leaned in and whispered, “I think she likes you, whelp.”

She kicked him in the shin and he laughed out loud. “Way to re-injure your fragile man.”

“What the fuck ever, Skjor. You fragile? My ass.”


	27. The Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for over 150 views! I'm ecstatic. Also, as you guys probably know, I'm also writing a companion piece to this called The Thief and the Companion, centering around angsty Vilkas and an original character, following the Thieves Guild quest-line. Please give kudos, comment, bookmark, whatever! Feedback is appreciated!

Skjor rubbed his hand over his face as he paced the length of Kodlak's study. Nayna watched him through half-lidded eyes, trying not to doze. They'd made the four day journey in three, riding as if the Great Hunt chased after them. If she'd had little sleep, Skjor could not have had much more. And he looked it, haggard and worn, never before had he so looked his age to her. 

All Nayna desired to do was sleep, but Skjor insisted on the meeting and insisted she be the one to call it. And so she did, even in the late evening hour. They'd told Kodlak beforehand and he nodded, only listening, for which Nayna was grateful. She'd felt no judgment emanating from him, only thoughtfulness. 

She shifted, lifting her elbow off the table and glanced over to Kodlak, who was also watching Skjor. His lips pinched together as his kindly old eyes followed Skjor's incessant pacing. She was surprised to see the journal open, but not written in when she glanced down.

“We need to do something,” Skjor muttered.

“We will, boy,” Kodlak soothed.

Skjor just tossed his head and continued worrying Kodlak's floor. 

“Skjor,” she murmured. “Why don't you come sit down?”

“No.”

His agitation finally reached her and she felt the wolf tugging and propelling her to him. She caught his arms to stop him and looked at the shadow of the beast on his face. At the rumbling growl, only felt, not heard, she tilted her head to the side. The stupid, damnable man hadn't transformed since before they left for Solitude. Which explained his horrific injuries after Wolfskull Cave. Bastard. Her wolf pawed at her, begging to be free, begging to go to its mate.

“Oh my love,” she whispered, cupping his jaw in her hand, half to comfort him and half to soothe the damned beast. “Tonight?”

“Yeah,” he grunted and shrugged her off. Nayna stepped back stung, but Kodlak caught her wrist and shook his head.

“Don't take it personal, lass.”

She nodded and sat back down, this time with her hands folded in her lap and her toes tapping on the stone to keep her awake. Kodlak went back to scratching in his journal, probably writing down the events Nayna had just explained to him.

They didn't have long to wait, as Aela, Farkas and Vilkas filed into the room, the latter closing the door behind him, each taking their customary places. Farkas leaning against the weapon rack, Aela kicking up the desk chair to sit next to Nayna and Vilkas leaning against the door, as if to make a quick escape.

Aela's eyes followed Skjor before they slid over to Nayna, who shrugged. But Aela knew. Hell she knew Skjor better than Nayna herself did. She squirmed in her chair, trying to push away the annoyance. They had already solved this. No need dwelling on it.

“So, what's going on?” Farkas asked, a troubled look on his face.

Kodlak sighed, pushing his journal away. “It would seem that we have a problem. With the Silver Hand.”

Vilkas shrugged. “They've always been a problem, Harbinger.”

“Yeah but they're a bigger problem now,” muttered Skjor, still pacing.

“Well, maybe if you didn't hunt them,” said Vilkas crossing his arms over his chest, an accusatory glare thrown Skjor's way.

Both Nayna and Aela sucked in sharp breaths as Skjor stopped. He rotated to face Vilkas, fists clenched. 

“Perhaps I hunt them for all they've done to us,” Skjor said through gritted teeth.

“And perhaps they hunt us for the same reason,” Vilkas snarled, pushing himself off the door to step up to Skjor. 

The protective flare of her beast rose, making Nayna rise to her own feet before she even realized it. Nayna inhaled sharp and shallow. She was her master. Not the beast.

A moment later she was yanking Skjor back by the elbow. Vilkas merely smirked in victory, but Nayna threw a glare over her shoulder. Asshole.

“Sit,” she mumbled into Skjor's shoulder as she pushed him to the chair. He obliged, glaring at her sullenly. 

“Anyway,” she took a deep shaky breath and let it go before speaking again. “I called this meeting.”

And she explained about the Silver Hand beginning with Dustman's Cairn from a year previous, the encounter with Vilkas and her own experience in Solitude. By the end Vilkas met her eyes with worry mirrored into her own.

Aela stood. “They must be exterminated.”

Nayna nodded. “But won't that just exacerbate our problems? We don't know their number, their exact locations, pretty much anything. Every time I've encountered them, it's been by surprise....Skjor....Are you sure it wasn't Silver Hand at Wolfskull?”

Skjor crossed his arms over his chest. “Pretty sure.”

She glanced back at him to find his eyes closed and him breathing heavily. It took everything she had to resist placing a calming hand on his shoulder. Instead she fiddled with the bottom of her tunic for a moment, gathering her words.

Nayna turned back to the group. “Well Kodlak and I sent word to every Jarl in the hold to be on the lookout. I think all we can do is keep vigilant, though I agree--”

Skjor snorted. “No. Aela is right. They need to be dealt with. They need to be crushed like the bugs they are.”

The vehemence in Skjor's voice troubled Nayna so much so that she instinctively approached him. But he waved her off. She sighed. Damnable man. Her heart ached with the need to comfort him, the wolf inside practically headbutting her in his direction. She chewed on her lip looking down. When she looked back up, everyone, including Kodlak was staring at her and her face went red.

Kodlak cleared his throat. “Nayna is right. But so is Skjor. We are all great warriors here, but numbers can overwhelm. We need to be cautious and avoid a full frontal attack, otherwise, I'm afraid the Companions will be no more.”

Skjor laughed, a horrible snarling laugh. Everyone looked at him in alarm, aside from Kodlak, who simply said, “Skjor.”

Her man rubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the manic look. He gulped in another breath of air.

“Yes, Harbinger?” Skjor asked, his eyes still closed.

Kodlak moved to stand, and as much as Nayna wanted to help him, she didn't want to hurt his pride. He stood on shaky legs and looked around the room. “The more you hunt them out, the more danger you put us all in. We are free men and women here. No one rules over another, but each is responsible for their own actions. I would hate for one of our shield-siblings to be killed because of foolhardiness.”

Skjor opened his eyes and searched the room for Nayna, meeting her harried gaze. She tightened her jaw, glaring at him, but his face softened as he took in Kodlak's words. He sighed and nodded a tiny nod in her direction, which soothed both her heart and her beast. She smiled and turned back to Kodlak.

“I know it's not our way, I know we confront our problems head on, but Harbinger, don't you think we should quietly gather information? Especially since it's such a danger to us all.”

Kodlak sighed. “Perhaps you're right. Fine. I would like you all to call in any favors you're owed, question any contacts or follow, and I mean follow, any known members of the Silver Hand. Agreed?”

Nayna, Farkas, Vilkas and Aela all nodded in unison. “Agreed.”

Kodlak turned his gaze to Skjor who took a deep breath, a hand over his face before letting it fall slack. “Agreed.”

“We'll meet back here in one week. And remember,” Kodlak's voice became louder over the din of everyone standing to leave. His sharp eyes turned to rest on Farkas. “Discretion is the better part of valor.”

Aela stepped forward. “Kodlak, I have business in Markarth, but I will churn my sources there. I should be back within the month.”

He nodded. “As you will Aela. Happy hunting.”

Kodlak nodded at her and Nayna reached over to squeeze his arm before following the others into the hall.

Skjor caught her arm as she walked out into the hall. He hustled her towards his room, slamming the door shut behind him. In the hall she heard the whelps snickering and joking about them, but Skjor paid no heed.

“Skjor!” She cried. “What has gotten into you?”

“The moons,” he muttered.

“Aye, I know that, but damnit Skjor, a little self control?”

“I'm trying, whelp.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You're in heat.”

She pulled her face back to look into his. “I'm what?”

He placed his hands on her hips. “I can smell your blood coming. Soon. Within the next few days.”

“Oh,” she said as she rested her hands on his chest.

“How do you feel?”

She shrugged. “Normal.”

“Not what I meant, whelp,” he muttered.

“Relieved. Annoyed. Inconvenienced. Tired. Pick one. What about you?”

She saw the brief flash of disappointment cross over his face before he shrugged. “Same, aside from tired....Whelp, do you think....” He sighed and kissed her brow. “Nevermind.”

He pulled away, leaving her bereft and empty. She reached for him, but he simply brought her fingers up to his mouth and kissed them before letting go.

“Tell me, love.”

“Maybe later, whelp. Right now I should go speak with Kodlak. I'm sure he has things he needs to smooth over with me.”

 

Nayna took the time to strip off her armor, wash, and wrap herself in one of Skjor's shirts while he was gone. She propped her feet up on the table with a book on her lap. Though she flipped through it, she wasn't paying attention to the words. Instead she was thinking about Skjor. He was acting so much like Vilkas. She'd felt restless too, her own beast gnawing at her, but she had been able to occupy herself with other things. Maybe it was the trauma of her past, shielding her since she'd lived so long with the urge to jump out of her own skin. But her heart hurt for her mate. The only thing to do was to hunt with him. And so she waited.

She tried to push thoughts of her moons blood from her mind, but it was not so easy. Especially knowing she saw the disappointment in Skjor's eye. Surely he hadn't changed his mind? She wished she had told him she too was disappointed. Maybe she would when he came back. Though she still wasn't exactly sure where she stood. And with the Silver Hand running rampant? What would they do with a wolf child? She shuddered. 

She'd heard stories from Farkas about the horrors they put their brethren through. Torture with silver powder. Skinning them alive...

Skjor's footsteps thumped down the hall, so she closed her book and shook her head free of the Silver Hand. She tossed the book on the table. He came into the room, angry and disgruntled, shutting the door with a bang. She grimaced.

“Are you alright?” She pulled her feet from the table and rose to greet him.

He was trembling. “No.”

Nayna caught his shoulders. “What is it?”

He squared his jaw, looking over her shoulder. “I'm to sort out the mess Farkas with the job distribution. Which is annoying as fuck, but....Kodlak asked me not to transform.”

“Oh love....” She sighed. “I know he means well, but....at least once more before....”

“Before what?”

“Before you go crazy.”

He snorted.“I'm not already crazy?”

She laughed and reached for his belt. “Only a little.”

“Shut up, whelp.” And he captured his mouth with hers. The urgency with which he took her not only shocked her, but it awoke a new sense of desire that she hadn't felt in nearly a month. His lips and hands whirled over her body in a rapid frenzy, driving her beyond her peak, making her tremble against his body. And she loved it. She lay in his arms afterward, nuzzling her face into his chest, letting her head rise and fall with his breathing. 

“Love?” She murmured, but he was asleep. Thank goodness....

For the next few hours she dozed, often jerking herself out of sleep. Always with the dreams of Helgen. Always with the dreams of the dragon. She rolled over onto her side, facing away from Skjor, as if to hide her thoughts from him. The last thing he needed was her to wake him up and annoy him further. 

The dragon was in her dreams every night now. Maybe she should have gone to Delphine, who clearly had an interest. Nayna had fetched her the dragonstone....nearly two years ago. Farengar had said it was a map of dragon burial sites. Why would a simple innkeeper want to know about dragons....

Or maybe she should go back to the Greybeards and tap into their knowledge on such matters. She couldn't believe she hadn't asked before. Then again, the only time she'd been to High Hrothgar, her thoughts had been filled with Skjor and how to get over him.

Gods, she was such a shitty dragonborn.

Behind her Skjor snorted and rolled over, throwing an arm over her. She groaned, feeling the familiar dull ache of her womb. Skjor opened his eyes and reached for her in the dark.

“What, whelp?”

She rolled over and moaned, rubbing her belly. There was a sharp stabbing pain. Damnit. Skjor pushed himself up and he kissed her brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp rapping on the door silenced him. They exchanged looks. Vilkas. Of course it was.

“Fuck off!” Skjor growled. Nayna smiled and shook with silent laughter. It would never work for Vilkas, who pounded on the door once more. 

Skjor motioned for her to wait on the bed as he grunted. 

She propped herself up on her elbow. “You better see what he wants, love.”

Nayna rolled onto her back, aching to get comfortable. She listened as Skjor opened the door and snapped, “What? This better be good Vilkas.”

“Send out your woman. I need to speak with her.”

Nayna covered her hands with her face. Of course he would. And he sounded just as agitated as Skjor. So he was in one of those moods.

“It's midnight. What the fuck could you want with her right now? Fuck off, Vilkas.” Skjor snarled and he tried to shut the door, but it bounced back and hit Skjor in the shoulder with a sickening thud. Her stomach rolled and she sat up. 

“It's not your business. Now kindly get her.”

“No. Now kindly fuck off.” Skjor snapped with the same brittle tone.

She sighed and pushed herself off the bed. Easier just to see what he wanted so then they could catch some sleep before she and Skjor went to hunt. She wrapped the sheet tightly around herself and swished over to the door, leaning under Skjor's arm and against his side. 

“What is it Vilkas?” She tried to say as gentle as she could.

“Get dressed. We need to talk.”

“No--” Skjor started, but Nayna rested a hand on his bare chest.

“Give me a few minutes, I need to dress.” 

“Fine. I'll be in the yard.”

She nodded and shut the door in his face. 

“Really, whelp?” Skjor grunted.

“Aye, just let me do this. And then we'll go out.” She smiled at him.

“Alright, whelp. But you've got fifteen minutes before I come get you.

 

Nayna rolled her eyes as Vilkas complained of something irrelevant. Of course it wasn't enough for him to push and prod Skjor. He had to hurt her too. They snipped at each other, but Nayna wasn't over bothered aside from the startling similarity in Vilkas and Skjor's behaviors. She was mildly irritated and grumpy. Her belly still ached.

The look on his face stabbed into her heart. Her was part of the pack, whether or not he transformed on the regular. She sighed and stroked his arm, staring at his chest, where his heart betrayed his fire.“I know you find it a curse. I truly can see why, Vil. This must be so hard for you, and I sympathize, I really do.”

Behind his eyes she saw the battle, the same one she saw in Skjor's. He bit his lip staring over her shoulder as if she weren't there.“I need to get away for a while.” 

Nayna nodded. “I understand, Vilkas...Farkas told me once that you'd always dreamt of seeing High Hrothgar. I need to return something to the Greybeards and I could use a shield-sibling.”

“No Skjor?”

Nayna shook her head. “I don't think he'd come. Kodlak is getting a little bit worse each day. It's Skjor who is holding everyone together as of late.”

He reached for her arm but she brushed him off.

“You're right. I don't know where the rest of us would be without him.” He said into the wind.

She shivered.

There was a lengthy silence between the two as they both looked up at the moons with longing in their eyes. Kodlak had told Skjor not to transform, but the pull...Twin full moons, so long without letting go. She shook her head. She loved Kodlak, as she loved no other, but he was wrong. And he was right at the same time. It was a curse and it was eating those she loved alive. But Skjor was proud and strong. He loved his beast. He was his beast. She saw it clearly now. That night he and Aela gave her the blood. That was him and the beast as one. She loved him regardless, but it scared her. She didn't want to lose him to the beast or the Silver Hand, but if he kept acting reckless and foolhardy....

The doors behind them opened and Skjor peered out. “Are you ready, whelp?”

Her heart leaped in excitement and she felt her beast dancing. “Aye, I'm always ready, my love.”


	28. Not really a chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a chapter! You'll see :) Big changes!

This isn't your ordinary chapter. Oh no, it's an explanation of things to come :)

First off, I would like to say, thank you to anyone who has been sticking through this story with me. This is my first big writing endeavor and I've learned so much along the way. And I've got no plans to abandon this story, however, I won't lie, I'm stuck. I feel as if I've cliched myself into a bit of a corner. The good thing about publishing the chapters as you go is the excitement, the feedback, seeing the numbers rise. However, the drawback is that if you're like me who does not always function well with an outline, and you're writing chapter by chapter, well it doesn't always work so well. You either write yourself into a corner and muck up the story completely or your well runs dry and you become frustrated with your work. Both apply to me to some extent, but mostly the latter.

I'll admit, it was rough seeing my other story get so many kudos in a few short days and my main story not get the same amount of attention. Maybe it was the sheer number of words, maybe the horrific prose at the beginning or maybe the last few chapters have seemed....off. Writing the most recent chapter for Moonborn felt like pulling teeth. And I cried because I felt like it wasn't up to par and I just couldn't find a way to make it so. And so I do what I call, publishing in self-defense because a chapter is better than none, right? And eventually I'll find my mojo, right? 

Looking back, I realize there is so much that could be cut and so, so many things that need to be added and rewritten. Things I've ignored completely. And in my quest to make Nayna as unMary-Sueish as possible, I feel like some days she just falls flat. She's so...stagnant. And yes, that's part of who she is, but she hasn't grown enough. Perhaps that's me bagging on my writing. 

So my current plan, to get my mojo back for Moonborn, is to go through each chapter, edit, revise, enhance and cut. To plan out my storylines with more care and finesse. I will be leaving Moonborn up in the meantime, but there may be a chance that the chapters will be gone someday. This is still a work in progress.

As I've said before, thank you for sticking by me, thank you for kudos, thank you for reading. Hopefully it just gets that much better in the future :)


	29. Updating

I know it's been a bit since I uploaded my last chapter. I'm still working on editing the chapters. So far I have about 5 chapters edited. I've also managed to work out major plot points, major chapters, etc. So therefore it should be a bit easier. Right now I'm taking a small break from it as I'm a little overwhelmed with the story itself. In about a week, I will be retiring this story and uploading a whole "new" story with the new chapters. Thank you for sticking with me.

For now I'm concentrating on my walking dead fan fic called The Price We Pay. You should check it out if you're into that. As always feel free to leave comments <3


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